
Gass. 

Book- 


I 


















THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


































THE ROSE OF 
OLD ST. LOUIS 

BY 

MARY DILLON 

1/ 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
ANDRI: CASTAIGNE AND C. M. RELYEA 





tz 3 

Y\o 


Copyright, 1904, Dy 
The Century Co. 


Published July , 1904 

Reprinted July , 1904, 1904, 

September , 1904, October , 1904, 
December , 1904, January , 1906, 
February , 1907 

o Jb & I 

’i 3 



J. F. TAPLEY CO. 
NEW YORK 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PA«E 

i I Make my Bow in Cahokia 3 

n I Propose a Toast 17 

hi I Meet an Old Acquaintance 31 

iv I Make an Engagement .44 

v I Go to a Picnic on Chouteau’s Pond ... 55 

vi Whippoorwills 79 

vii I Twine Christmas Greens 92 

vm I Go to Midnight Mass 104 

ix Madame Chouteau’s Ball 119 

x La-Guignolee 135 

xi Choissez le Hoi 147 

xii A Midnight Fray 157 

xiii a A Pretty Boy ! ” 168 

xiv A Creole Love-song 181 

xv “AuRevoir” 203 

xvi A Virginia Farmer 212 

xvn A Great Debate „ 225 

xvhi A Magio Coach . . 245 

xix Check to the Abbe ! «. . 266 

vii 


vin 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

xx Bonaparte Gives England a Rival .... 281 

xxi A Tempest in a Bath-tub 308 

xxii Mr. Monroe Arrives! 328 

xxiii The Consul’s Sentence 338 

xxiv A New Chevalier of France 363 

xxv The Comtesse de Baloit Sends for her 

Hunter 375 

xxvi The Consul’s Commission 386 

xxvii “ Good-by, Sweetheart ! ” 397 

xxviii Exit le Chevalier 414 

xxix Under the Old Flag * 426 

xxx The Rose of St. Louis 448 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

u i Very well, I shall expect to hear from you ’ ” . Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

u For the chevalier had certainly been caught spying, if 
nothing worse ” 72- 

“ In solitary dignity stood Black Hawk ” 152 

u 1 Welcome to the White House ! 1 ” 222 

u He stopped and turned suddenly to the two ministers ” 294 

u Rushed straight toward him ” 324 

The Signing of the Louisiana Purchase Treaty by 
Marbois, Livingston, and Monroe 370 

i4 Pelagie came running out of the shadow, both hands 
extended ” 402 
































. „ . 






















FOREWORD 


My story does not claim to be history, but in every im- 
portant historical detail it is absolutely faithful to the 
records of the times as I have found them. Every 
word of the debate in Congress, every word of Mar- 
bois, Livingston, Deeres, Napoleon, and his two bro- 
thers on the subject of the Louisiana Cession is verba- 
tim from the most authentic accounts. I am indebted 
for the historical part of my story to Gayarre’s 4 ‘His- 
tory of Louisiana/ ’ to Martin’s “History of Louisi- 
ana,” to James K. Hosmer’s “History of the Loui- 
siana Purchase,” to Lucien Bonaparte’s “Memoirs,” 
to numerous lives of Napoleon, Jefferson, Talleyrand, 
and others, and particularly to Marbois himself, whose 
account of the negotiations on the subject of the ces- 
sion is preserved in his own handwriting in the St. 
Louis Mercantile Library. 

As to the local color of old St. Louis, both in its 
topographical setting and in its customs, I have also 
tried to be exact. And here I am very largely in- 
debted to that simple and charming old writer, H. M. 


XJ 


FOREWORD 


xn 

Brackenridge, in his “Recollections of the West” and 
in his “Views of Louisiana”; and also to Timothy 
Flint in his “Recollections”; to J. Thomas Scharf’s 
interesting “History of St. Louis,” and especially to 
Mr. Frederic L. Billon, St. Louis’s historian par 
eminence . I make also the same claim for exactness 
as to the local color of Washington at that early day; 
for which I have made so many gleanings in many 
fields— a little here, a little there— that it seems hardly 
worth while to give special credit to each. 

In non-essential points I have occasionally taken 
the liberty belonging to a writer of fiction, having 
condensed into one several debates in Congress, as 
well as several interviews between Talleyrand and 
Livingston, and two interviews between Bonaparte 
and Marbois. 

Nor have I hesitated to use the names of the early 
St. Louis settlers, because they are names still well 
known and honored in the city which they helped to 
found. I have touched upon them but lightly, and 
have tried to make those touches true to the char- 
acters of those estimable gentlemen and gentlewomen 
of the old French regime. 


Mary Dillon. 


THE ROSE OF 
OLD ST. LOUIS 













THE 

ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


CHAPTER I 


I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA 


u The best-laid schemes o’ mice an* men 
Gang aft a-gley.” 


* s T D this is the village of St. Louis, sir?” 



I bowed respectfully to my captain standing in 
the prow of the boat and looking across an expanse of 
swirling muddy water to the village on the bluffs be- 
yond. I spoke more after the manner of making 
polite conversation than because I was desirous of in- 
formation, for I knew without asking that it could be 
none other. 

My captain answered me: “Yes, my lad, yonder is 
St. Louis, and this is De Soto’s river; what dost think 
of it!” 

“I think, sir, ’t is a great river, though not so clear 
a stream as the Delaware, and muddier even than the 
Ohio.” 

I spoke calmly, but my heart was beating fast, and 
I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. I 
had been ill with what the boatmen call river fever, 


3 


* 


4 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and had lain in the bottom of the boat wrapped in my 
blanket, alternately shivering with chills and burning 
with fever, oblivious to all about me, so that I had not 
known when we swept out of the Ohio into the Mis- 
sissippi, past Fort Massac, nor when we had tied up 
at Kaskaskia for a long rest. 

We had landed late the evening before at Cahokia, 
and been most hospitably entertained by Mr. Gratiot. 
There had been a great banquet in honor of Captain 
Clarke, with dancing far into the night, and many 
guests from St. Louis. I, being still an invalid, had 
been put to bed in Mr. Gratiot’s beautiful guest- 
chamber, and given a hot posset that put me to sleep 
at once, though not so soundly but that I could dream- 
ily catch occasional strains of the fiddles and the 
rhythmic sound of feet on the waxed walnut, and many 
voices and much laughter. 

Had I been well, it would have vexed me sore not to 
have been able to lead in the minuet one of the beau- 
ties of Cahokia, whose fame had reached even my dis- 
tant home in Philadelphia, for I had been carefully 
trained in the steps and the figures, and was young 
enough to be proud of my skill in the dance. But 
feeling ill as I did, the sounds of revelry combined 
with the posset only to soothe me into a heavy slum- 
ber. 

I woke in the early dawn to find Yorke, Captain 
Clarke’s big black, standing beside my bed, with a 
bowl of smoking gruel. He showed a formidable array 
of white ivory as he grinned amiably in response to 
my questioning look : 


I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA 


5 


“Mars’ Gratiot send you de gruel wid his compli- 
ment, sah, and he and de capen bofe say you ’s not to 
git up dis molinen, sah. ,, 

Yorke always considered that to state a request of 
“de capen’ ’ was sufficient to insure compliance. He 
could not dream of any one setting his authority at 
naught. With me, too, Captain Clarke’s authority 
was paramount. It had only been by a promise of ab- 
solute submission to that authority that I had per- 
suaded my kinsman in Kentucky to allow me to ac- 
company the captain on his mission to the governor 
of Illinois at St. Louis. 

So, when Yorke said the captain had ordered me to 
remain in bed, I thought for a moment I would have 
to obey; but having swallowed the hot gruel, into 
which Yorke had put a modicum of good Orleans 
ratafia, I was straightway infused with new spirit (I 
meant not that for wit), and such strength flowed 
through my limbs as I had not felt for days. 

“Yorke,” I said, springing out of bed with a haste 
that made *me light-headed for a moment, “help me 
into my clothes, and be quick about it ; I think I hear 
sounds below that betoken getting ready for depar- 
ture.” 

Even as I spoke I ran to a stand on which stood a 
basin and a small ewer of water. I filled the basin, 
and plunged my head into the icy water. I drew it 
out, sputtering and shivering, and, seizing a towel, 
gave my head and neck and hair so vigorous a rub- 
bing that I did not see Yorke slip out of the room. 
When I turned to speak to him I found him gone, 


6 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


afraid either of being a partner in my disobedience 
to the captain, or of being left behind if he delayed 
longer. 

Left to myself, I did my best to hurry with my 
clothing. I had not much experience in dressing my- 
self, but I had been compelled to leave behind me in 
Philadelphia the black boy who had never before, 
since I could remember, been absent from me a day. 
I had been eager enough to part with him, thinking it 
ill befitted a soldier of fortune, as I intended to be, to 
be coddled by a valet, and I had not missed him much, 
for Yorke had been always ready to lend a helping 
hand when I needed it. Now I was of a mind to curse 
the vanity that had led me to fit myself out with doe- 
skins that were of so snug a cut they needed much 
tugging to get into them, and with endless lacings 
with which my awkward fingers, clumsier than ever 
from the icy water and the trembling the fever had 
left me in, fumbled desperately. 

But I was ready at last, and seizing my sword-belt 
in one hand and my hat in the other, I started with 
hot haste for the door, fearing I might be, after all, 
too late. As I opened it, a sound smote my ears that 
struck terror to my heart : the voices and the laughter 
of young maidens. I stepped back involuntarily. I 
had not thought of the possibility of meeting any one 
at that early hour but my host and my captain, and 
I had not given a thought to my appearance. Now I 
took an anxious survey of myself in the small French 
mirror that hung above the stand. I was vexed be- 
yond measure at what I saw. 


I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA 7 

“They will take me for a girl,” I muttered between 
my teeth, “and flout me accordingly.” 

It had ever been a source of extreme mortification 
to me that I should have rosy cheeks like any maiden ’s, 
but now, ow r ing to the hard scrubbing I had given 
them, they were all aflame, and their color was height- 
ened by the pallor my recent illness had given to brow 
and temples. My hair, from its wetting, was curling 
in ringlets all around my head. I seized a brush and 
tried desperately to reduce them to straightness, but 
the brushing served only to bring out in stronger re- 
lief the glint of gold that I despised, and certainly 
my eyes had never looked more blue and shining. 

“They will think me a girl or a baby!” I muttered 
once more, and was in such disgust with myself I was 
ready to go back to bed. But bethinking me that 
would only leave me the longer in this House of 
Dames, I seized my belt once more, buckled it on with 
a vicious twitch, and strode boldly to the door. 

There I stopped a moment to collect all my cour- 
age, soothing myself with the reflection that I stood a 
good six feet in my moccasins, and though I carried 
no superfluous flesh, my shoulders were as broad as 
my captain’s and my muscles like whip-cords. Forti- 
fied by these considerations, I strode on boldly to the 
landing at the head of the wide staircase leading down 
to the great hall. 

There I stopped again; for while the landing was 
in gloom, the hall was brilliantly illuminated by a 
roaring, blazing lightwood fire, looking cheery enough 
in the gray light of the frosty morning, and throw- 


8 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


ing into strong relief two groups on either side of 
the fireplace. On one side stood my captain, evi- 
dently ready for a start, and making his adieus to his 
host. I glanced eagerly at Mr. Gratiot and at the el- 
derly man who stood beside him, who, I thought, was 
likely to be none other than Mr. Francis Yigo. I had 
heard much of these two men from General George 
Rogers Clarke, whose lonely retreat on the Ohio I had 
often visited during my stay in Kentucky. They had 
been General Clarke’s best friends and helpers in the 
early days of the war, when he had made that daring 
attack on Vincennes, and I knew Captain Clarke’s 
mission to St. Louis had something to do with dis- 
charging his brother’s obligation to them. They were 
smaller men than my captain, of a slender, graceful 
build, and the hair of both was quite white, but from 
my post of observation I could see that they were men 
of courtly manners, well used to the ways of the world, 
and talking now quite eagerly with all the wealth of 
gesture and expression natural to Frenchmen. 

The firelight played strongly on the face of my cap- 
tain, whom I had already begun to adore, as did every 
one who came into close companionship with him. I 
gazed admiringly at his broad, white brow, clear-cut 
features, and firmly knit figure, a little square of 
build, but looking every inch the frontier soldier in 
his leathern doublet and leggings and high-laced moc- 
casins. Over one shoulder he had thrown his blue 
military cloak, for the trip across the river promised 
to be a cold one, and he carried in his hand a hat with 
a drooping plume. I wondered if the merry group of 


I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA 


9 


girls on the other side of the fireplace was not im- 
pressed by such a handsome and soldierly stranger, 
and a bachelor to boot. I thought I could detect an 
occasional conscious glance in his direction and a fur- 
tive preening of skirts and fluttering of fans, that be- 
tokened they were not insensible to the presence of 
the brave captain. 

There were six of the young maidens, and all but 
two of them were in ball costume ; flowered silks, and 
arms and shoulders gleaming white through fine lace, 
powdered hair, and patches and paint, they might 
have stepped out of a Philadelphia ball-room, I 
thought, and was astonished at the thought. I had 
not expected to find court beauties on the frontier, yet 
the Chouteaus, the Gratiots, and the Papins were 
names I had often heard in my own home as men of 
wealth and vast emprise. 

The six girls were chatting gaily in French, and 
I was so absorbed in my contemplation of them that 
I did not at first consider the strangeness of their ap- 
pearance in that costume so early in the morning. 
When it did occur to me, I concluded the four must 
have come over from St. Louis to attend the ball and 
had no other dress to return in, and the other two 
were doubtless Mr. Gratiot’s daughters, which I 
learned afterward was the true explanation. 

But now bethinking me it was high time to make 
my descent, and running quickly over in my mind 
the way to make it most effective, — for I wished to 
bear myself bravely before the young maidens,— I de- 
termined to place my left hand on the hilt of my 


10 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


sword, to hold my hat, which also bore a sweeping 
plume, in my right hand pressed close to my heart, 
and with head held high and borne a little backward, 
to descend with the stately minuet step. I flattered 
myself that with such a manner as I felt sure I could 
assume those saucy maidens would forget my rosy 
cheeks and my curls and think only of my air of 
grand seigneur. 

I glanced down to see that my costume was all 
right, and now I was glad that my doeskins fitted so 
perfectly, even if they were hard to get into in a 
hurry, that my high moccasins were so beautifully and 
elaborately beaded in purple and yellow, with broad 
slashes of fringe falling from the tops of them, and 
that my leathern doublet sat so well, as my peep into 
the mirror had convinced me it did. 

As I started down, feeling well satisfied with my 
costume, yet trembling inwardly at the thought of the 
array of bright eyes I was to encounter, my glance fell 
on an untied lacing at one knee. I stooped to retie it, 
and at that moment heard what seemed to me the 
sweetest voice I had ever listened to, call : 

“A moi, Leon, a moi,” followed by a clear, soft 
whistle. 

I was still clumsily fumbling with my lacers (my 
fingers have ever been all thumbs when there is any 
dainty task to be performed) when I heard a rush of 
soft, padded feet, and down the corridor behind me, 
in response to that clear whistle, bounded a great 
dog. Through the arch that my bent limbs made in 
stooping he saw the glow of the firelight from below 


11 


I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA 

and made straight for it. But alas ! the arch was nar- 
rower than he thought, and dog and man went rolling 
and tumbling down the staircase, bumping and bound- 
ing from stair to stair, a wild melee of doeskin legs 
and shaggy paws and clanging sword and wildly 
brandished arms, making vain clutches at the air to 
stay the headlong descent. 

Deep-mouthed yelps voiced the terror of the dog at 
this unexpected Sindbad who refused to be shaken off. 
No words could voice the overwhelming shame of the 
man at this unmannerly presentation of himself be- 
fore a group of young maidens, when so dignified an 
entrance had been planned. 

As we struck the polished walnut of the hall floor, 
I disentangled myself and sprang to my feet, where I 
stood, scarlet with shame, head drooping, a pitiable 
object indeed. There had been an amazed, and per- 
haps on the maidens’ side a terrified, silence during 
our noisy descent. Now from the maidens there arose 
first a suppressed giggle and then an irresistible peal 
of laughter, joined to the hearty guffaws of the men. 
My shame was fast giving place to rising wrath, in 
no degree appeased by the consciousness of the spec- 
tacle I presented. The dog, a magnificent mastiff, by 
that time recovering from his confusion, and feeling 
as keenly as I, no doubt, the derogation of his dignity, 
and, with a dog’s unreason, regarding me as the agent 
of his humiliation when I was in fact the victim of 
his own stupidity, sprang at me with a vicious growl. 

Here was an occasion to vent my boiling wrath. 
Quick as thought my sword sprang from its sheath 


12 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and came down flat-sided with a ringing blow on the 
brute’s head. I have ever been a merciful man to all 
beasts, and dogs and horses I have loved and they 
have loved me ; and even in my wrath and the quick 
necessity of defense I remembered to use the flat 
of my sword ; yet such is the strength of my sword- 
arm from much practice, increased, I fear, by a 
venom instigated by those silvery peals of laughter, 
that I bowled the brute over as easily as if he had been 
a ninepin. 

With a howl of mingled rage and pain he recovered 
himself instantly and crouched to spring upon me 
once more, with such bloodthirst in his eyes that I 
saw now I would have to defend myself in earnest. 
But as he was almost in the act of springing, from 
among the group of maidens there rushed what 
seemed to my dazzled vision a small whirlwind of 
satins and laces and velvets and jewels, and flung 
itself upon the dog with a ringing cry of “A bas, 
Leon ! tais-toi, mon ange ! ’ ’ 

The brute yielded obedience at once to the restrain- 
ing arm and tones of command, though still regard- 
ing me with vicious eyes and uttering threatening 
growls. 

As for me, I stood as if turned to stone, still in an 
attitude of defense, the weight of my body thrown 
forward on the right foot, the hilt of my sword pressed 
against my breast, the point presented to receive the 
onslaught of the brute. In that attitude I stood frozen, 
for never had I beheld such a vision of loveliness. 
The arm that encircled the shaggy neck of the dog 


I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA 


13 


was bare almost to the shoulder, the sleeve of finest 
lace having fallen back in the energy of her action, 
and never have I seen an arm so white, so round, or 
tapering so finely to the slender wrist and exquisite 
little hand clutching a lock of Leon’s mane. Masses 
of wavy dark hair were drawn loosely back from a 
brow of dazzling whiteness into a cluster of soft curls 
on top of the head, where it seemed to be caught by a 
jeweled aigret, which yet permitted tiny ringlets to 
escape about the temples and the nape of the snowy 
neck. She had thrown herself with such abandon on 
the dog, and was holding him with such exertion of 
strength, that the narrow skirt of her satin gown, flow- 
ered in palest pink and silver, revealed every line of 
a most exquisite figure down to the little foot extend- 
ing backward from her skirts and showing the high 
arch of the instep in its stocking of embroidered silk. 

I had gazed with impunity, for the drooping white 
lids and the long, dark lashes sweeping the perfect 
curve of the cheek showed all her looks were for the 
dog, to whom she incessantly murmured in French 
mingled words of command and endearment. But 
suddenly she lifted her little head and flung it 
proudly back, with such a blaze of indignation and 
scorn in her dark eyes I felt withered under it. The 
scarlet curve of her lips fell away to disclose two rows 
of pearly teeth, close set, and through them, with a 
vicious snap, came the one word : 

“Bete!” 

I could not for a moment think that the word was 
meant for the dog, and such a rage slowly welled in 


14 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


my veins as restored me at once to my self-command. 
I dropped the point of my sword to the floor and 
straightened myself to as proud a pose as hers. 

“I pray you pardon, Mademoiselle,” I said haugh- 
tily. The words were meek enough, but not the tone 
nor the manner, and so enraged was I that I hesitated 
not a moment over my French. My accent, I knew, 
was good, for, my aunt having married Monsieur 
Barbe Marbois, I was thrown much with French peo- 
ple; but I had been ever careless of my grammar, 
and in a moment of less excitement I might have hesi- 
tated in venturing on the native tongue of so fair a 
creature. But now my French poured from me in an 
angry torrent : 

“I pray you pardon. Danger alone is my excuse. 
I do not doubt a dog is worth much more to Made- 
moiselle than the life of an American gentleman. I 
make you, Mademoiselle, my compliments and my ex- 
cuses. ’ ’ 

Then returning my sword to its scabbard with an 
angry ring, I made her a low and sweeping bow of 
ironical courtesy and strode hotly from the room. I 
was in such a tumult of r&ge and mortification that 
not until I reached the landing on the banks of Ca- 
hokia Creek, where the boats were tied and the men 
busily making ready for the departure, did I bethink 
me that I had left the house without a word of adieus 
or thanks to my host for his courtesy. I began to fear 
that my sense of self-respect would compel my return, 
and rather would I have faced a battalion of the Brit- 
ish than another flash from those dark eyes ; nor could 
I hope to make another so masterly a retreat as I 


I MAKE MY BOW IN CAHOKIA 


15 


plumed myself this one had been. But as I glanced 
back toward the house on the bluffs that had proved 
my undoing, to my intense relief I saw that the three 
gentlemen had followed not far behind me and were 
even now descending the pathway to the creek. I has- 
tened to meet them and make my apologies. 

A more courteous gentleman than Mr. Gratiot I 
never met. He spoke very good English indeed, his 
accent I believe not so good as my French one, but his 
grammar much better. 

“My dear young gentleman, you acquitted yourself 
nobly,” he was kind enough to say. “In the eyes of 
the young ladies, if I may possibly except Mademoi- 
selle Pelagie, you are a hero. But they are much cha- 
grined that you should have left them without giving 
them a chance to express their sympathy or their ad- 
miration. ' ' 

The sound of those silvery peals of laughter was 
too vividly in my remembrance to permit me to accept 
Mr. Gratiot's compliments without a large grain of al- 
lowance for a Frenchman's courtesy, but I bowed low 
in seeming to accept them. Then he introduced me 
to his companion, w T ho proved not to be Mr. Yigo after 
all, but Dr. Saugrain, the French emigre so renowned 
for his learning. I looked at him keenly as I made my 
bow, for I had heard something of him in Philadel- 
phia, and in Kentucky there had been so many tales of 
the wonderful things he could do that I think most 
people looked upon him as a dealer in black arts. But 
he was in no respect my idea of a Mephisto. He was 
small and wiry of build, and dressed in black small- 
clothes, with ruffles of finest lace at wrist and knee. 


16 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Black silk stockings showed a well-turned calf in no 
whit shrunken with age, and his silver shoe-buckles 
glittered with brilliants. His hair, iron-gray and 
curly, was tied in a short queue with a black satin rib- 
bon, and beneath a rather narrow and high brow 
beamed two as kindly blue eyes as it had ever been my 
lot to meet. 

His greeting was most cordial, though there was a 
merry twinkle , in his eye while speaking to me that 
made me feel he might still be laughing inwardly at 
my ridiculous descent of Mr. Gratiot’s staircase. 
With a very grand manner indeed, and with much use 
of his hands, as is the fashion of Frenchmen, he said : 

“My dear sir, it mek me mos’ proud and mos’ 
’appy to know you. Vous etes veritablement un brave. 
Le capitaine dine chez moi to-day; I s’all be desole 
and inconsolable if he bring not also his ver’ dear 
young frien’.” Then, with a sudden and entire 
change of manner, he laid his finger beside his nose 
and said in a loud whisper : 

“My frien’, I would not min’ you kill that dog, 
moi ! I lof e ’im not. ’ ’ 

But while his words did not sound kind to me, who 
am such a lover of dogs that nothing but the necessity 
of self-defense would ever make me lift a hand 
against one, yet, all the time he spoke, his eyes twin- 
kled more merrily than ever, and I wondered at the 
man whose manner could change so quickly from tfie 
grand seigneur’s to that of a king’s jester, and I puz- 
zled my brains mightily to know what his connection 
with the dog could be. 


CHAPTER II 


I PROPOSE A TOAST 
if The rose that all are praising.” 

AND this is the village of St. Louis, sir ? ” 

My discomfiture, my mortification, my rage, 
the vision of dainty beauty, the strange little savant— 
every remembrance of my brief visit to Cahokia had 
been swept away by the rushing waters of the great 
river of which I had read and heard so much. 

My brain was teeming with tales of the Spanish ad- 
venturer De Soto; of the French trader Joliet; of the 
devoted and saintly Jesuit, beloved of the Indians, 
Pere Marquette; and of the bold Norman La Salle’ 
who hated and feared all Jesuits. I saw the river 
through a veil of romance that gilded its turbid wa- 
ters, but it was something far other than its romantic 
past that set my pulses to beating, and the blood rush- 
ing through my veins so that I hardly heard my cap- 
tain ’s answer, and hardly knew what I replied to him. 

Through the months of my sojourn in Kentucky 
there had been one all-absorbing theme— the closing 
of the Mississippi to American boats by the Spanish, 
and their refusal to grant us a right of deposit on the 
17 


18 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

Isle of New Orleans. Feeling had run so high that 
there were muttered threats against the government 
at Washington. 

There were two factions, each acting secretly and 
each numbering thousands. One was for setting off 
at once down the river to capture New Orleans and 
take exclusive possession of both sides of the river ; 
and if the government at Washington would not help 
them, or, still worse, forbade them the emprise, they 
would set up an independent government of the West. 
The other faction, inspired by secret agents of the 
Spanish government, was for floating the Spanish 
flag and proclaiming themselves subjects of Charles 
of Aragon. Spain’s secret emissaries were eloquent 
of the neglect of the home government in the East, 
and its powerlessness to help the Westerners if it 
would, and it was said they clenched their arguments 
with chink of Spanish gold. Treason and patriotism, 
a wild indignation at wrongs unredressed, and a 
wilder enthusiasm for conquest sent the blood of 
Kentucky to fever-heat. Passions were inflamed 
until it needed but a spark from a tinder to set them 
ablaze. 

With me, friend and distant kinsman of the 
Clarkes, there was no possibility of being touched by 
the taint of treason. But while it would be treason of 
the blackest dye, and most abhorrent to my soul, to 
submit to Spain’s rule, to my young blood there could 
be no treason in compelling Spain at the point of the 
sword to submit to our demands. I was all for war, 
and when the cooler judgment of General Clarke and 


I PROPOSE A TOAST 


19 


his brother, my captain, prevailed to calm for a time 
the wild tumult of war, I was bitterly disappointed. 

Now for the first time I was beholding the river that 
had aroused the mighty tempest in Kentucky, and it 
was not the tales of De Soto and La Salle, of Joliet 
and Pere Marquette, that sent the blood rushing 
through my veins, but the thought that this was the 
mighty river forbidden to our commerce, that the 
swirling brown water at my feet was rushing down to 
the Spanish city on the Gulf, and I longed to be one 
of an army rushing with it to secure our natural and 
inalienable rights by conquest. 

I knew' that Captain Clarke was visiting St. Louis 
to make some arrangements for his brother’s debts— 
debts incurred principally to Mr. Gratiot and Mr. 
Vigo for no benefit to himself, but in rescuing and 
protecting the people of Illinois from the Indians and 
the British; debts belonging of right to the govern- 
ment, but repudiated by it, and left to be borne by the 
noble man who, almost alone, by a heroism and genius 
for war unparalleled had saved all that Western coun- 
try to the Union. 

I knew this was my captain’s errand, yet I hoped 
there might be some touching on the question of the 
river navigation with the Spanish governor of St. 
Louis, and I had visions of returning to Kentucky 
and, amid the acclaims of our fellow-citizens, announ- 
cing that Captain Clarke, assisted by his young kins- 
man, had succeeded in convincing the Spanish gov- 
ernor Delassus of the w r rongs inflicted upon American 
commerce by the unjust interdiction; that Delassus 


20 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


~l 


had thereupon remonstrated with the intendant at 
New Orleans, and, as a result, the river was thrown 
open to the Gulf, and a port of deposit granted on the 
Isle of New Orleans where our merchants might store 
the goods they brought down the river for sale. 

It was because my brain was teeming with such 
sweet dreams of glory that I answered my captain so 
absent-mindedly and so little to the point. It was still 
so early that the low morning sun at our backs had 
just begun to gild the bluffs before us. We could not 
have had a finer first view of the Spanish town of 

( which we had heard so much. High and dry on its 
limestone bluffs, where no floods for which the great 
river is so famous could ever reach it, it extended in a 
straggling line for a mile and a half. Its dwellings, 
some of them of imposing size, were embowered in 
trees, and, at that distance, seemed to stand in the 
midst of large gardens. Behind the village rose an- 
other hill, on the summit of which stood a fort, and 
from the fort, in either direction, palisades curved 
around the town, interrupted at intervals by demi- 
lunes, and terminating at the bluffs in stone towers. 
Behind this second terrace the land continued to rise 
in a succession of terraces, covered partly with low 
bushes and shrubs and partly with high, waving 
woods, giving an impression of indescribable richness 
to the landscape, every detail of which the level rays 
of the bright morning sun brought out in strong re- 
lief. The whole made a most impressive appearance, 
more like the picture of walled towns on the Rhine 
than like anything I had seen in our country. 


I PROPOSE A TOAST 


21 


We were now so far out in the stream that the men 
could no longer use their poles, and were trusting to 
the great sail they had spread to catch a stiff south- 
eastern breeze, assisted by vigorous strokes of their 
paddles, and I could see that against the swift current 
they were straining every nerve and yet were steadily 
being borne below the village and the landing-place. 

Paddling on the Schuylkill and the Delaware was 
ever a favorite pastime with me, and I doubt not I was 
a little proud of my skill. Forgetting my recent illness 
and the weak state it had left me in, I seized the pad- 
dle from a young fellow who seemed to me well-nigh 
giving over, and unceremoniously tumbled him out of 
his seat into the bottom of the boat, while I took his 
place. To my astonishment, I found this was an en- 
tirely different stream from the steadily flowing rivers 
of the East. My paddle was like to be snatched from 
my hand at the first dip into the powerful current, 
and though I saved it by a mad and desperate clutch, 
yet it felt like a feather in my hands, and I saw my 
captain (who had witnessed my peremptory usurpa- 
tion of the paddle) trying to suppress a sly smile, 
while my mortified ears caught the sound of derisive 
snickers behind me, and Yorke, the impudent black, 
grinned openly from ear to ear. 

The worst of it was, I myself could see we were 
losing ground more rapidly than before. Now, I had 
ever a horror of owning myself beaten (unless it were 
in argument, for I have no skill with words) . I would 
fight to the last gasp, but I would never surrender, 
which is sometimes a foolish way, but more often wins 


22 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


victory out of defeat. With my captain looking on, I 
felt that defeat even in so small a matter would be a 
disgrace I could never survive. And so, admonishing 
myself to keep cool, and remembering a turn of the 
wrist that an old Indian had taught me in Pennsyl- 
vania, I very soon caught the trick of the blade and 
found myself holding my own. Hope returned, and 
I gradually put forth more and more strength, until, 
to my great satisfaction, I at last saw that we were no 
longer drifting down-stream, but steadily making 
head against the current, with fair promise of reach- 
ing our landing-place. Then, indeed, did I feel ex- 
ultant, and such courage leaped through my veins, 
and so swift and sure and strong were my strokes, that 
I felt I could alone, with my single arm, bring the 
great boat to harbor. But for the second time that 
morning was my vanity my undoing. We did indeed 
make the landing, where a great concourse of people 
had gathered to meet us, among them a stately Span- 
ish don (who, I had no doubt, was the governor) sur- 
rounded by a retinue of officers ; but as the keel of our 
boat grounded in the soft mud and my captain called 
me to come with him to meet the governor, and I arose 
in my place to obey him, suddenly a great blackness 
and dizziness seized me, and I knew no more until I 
opened my eyes to find myself being borne, on the 
shoulders of four men, up the steep bluff toward the 
village street. I insisted in the most forcible terms on 
being put upon my feet at once, but as I spoke in Eng- 
lish, and the soldiers were either Spanish or creole 
French, my entreaties and imprecations were lost 


I PROPOSE A TOAST 


23 


upon them. Nor did my kicking and pushing avail 
me any better ; they but held me the more firmly for 
my struggles. Then I called out lustily for help, and 
the ever-ready iorke (but with the grin that I had 
learned at times to consider detestable) ran to my aid. 

“Yorke!” I shouted to him; “make the rascals put 
me down this minute, and do you, sir, shut that dom- 
tiferous mouth of yours. I warn you, sir, you grin at 
your peril ! ’ ’ 

My mother had ever a horror of the oaths with which 
gentlemen lard their conversation, and because I loved 
and honored her greatly, I had resolved that I would 
never, to use her words, “sully my mouth’ ’ with one. 
But often feeling the need of some more emphatic ex- 
pressions than our language provides except in the 
form of oaths, I had coined for myself a small vocabu- 
lary to be used on occasions requiring great emphasis. 
Since these words all began with a d, I had the satis- 
faction of feeling that I was sufficientlv emphatic 
without violating the respect due my mother. 

Whether it was the strangeness of the form of my 
imprecations or the length of my adjective that scared 
Yorke, certain it is that he was sobered at once, and 
with the solemnity of the Spanish don himself he soon 
made the soldiers understand that they must put me 
down. Once on my own feet, though I still felt a little 
shaky, I was able, by availing myself of Yorke ’s arm, 
to climb the steep path leading up the bluff, and soon 
found myself in the main street of the village, which 
the hahitans called the Rue Royale. 

We had come out into a large square or market- 


24 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


place, filled with the throng of people I had seen at 
the landing and many more, so that, as the people 
surged backward and forward to get a nearer view, the 
whole open space looked like a great posy-bed of many- 
hued flowers waving in a summer breeze. And if 
St. Louis had had a foreign look to me when viewed 
from a distance, still more did I feel as if I were in a 
strange town in a strange land as I heard the babble 
of strange tongues about me and saw the picturesque 
costumes of the habitans, so unlike anything I had 
ever seen in Philadelphia or Kentucky. Negroes were 
chattering their queer creole patois, and Indians of 
many nations were gathered into groups, some of them 
bedizened with the cheap finery of the stores, some of 
them wearing only bright-hued blankets, but with 
wonderful head-dresses of eagle feathers, and all of 
them looking gravely on with a curiosity as silent as 
that of the habitans was noisy and babbling. The 
presence of so many Indians and on such friendly 
terms struck me as strange, for in Kentucky there 
were no such friendly relations between Indians and 
whites, and the presence of so many of them would 
have betokened danger and caused much uneasiness. 

It thrilled me much that our coming should have 
made so great excitement in the village, and doubtless 
my vanity would have taken fire again if I had not 
known that it was my captain these people had come 
to see, and not myself, of whom they had never 
heard. Even my captain I knew must shine in a 
reflected glory, as the brother of General George 
Rogers Clarke, whom the people of St. Louis wor- 


I PROPOSE A TOAST 


25 


sliiped as their savior in the affair of 1780, when 
the Osages surprised the men at work in the fields, 
and whom all the Indians of Illinois regarded with 
fear and reverence as the great “ Captain of the Long 
Knives.” Yet I could see that many of their curious 
glances fell on me also, and I let go of Yorke ’s arm 
and walked steadily with my head in the air, as be- 
fitted the friend of Captain Clarke. 

We had stopped in front of a large stone building 
set inside a walled inclosure. My captain, who was 
in advance with the governor and his party, as he 
entered the inclosure turned and beckoned to Yorke 
and me to follow him. The throng parted to let us 
through, and as we entered the gates I saw that the 
governor had stopped on the wide gallery that ran 
round the four sides of the building, and with a 
stately flourish was bidding my captain welcome to 
Government House. 

With Yorke close at my footsteps, I followed the 
governor’s party through a wide door into a great 
room that extended through the house (as I could see 
by the open doors and windows at the rear) , and that 
was almost as wide as it was long, with doors opening 
into rooms on both sides. Here I was presented to 
Governor Delassus, who received me cordially, and 
who, with his dark eyes and punctilious manners, was 
my idea of a Spanish don. 

On either side of him stood two men who also 
greeted me cordially, hut without the punctiliousness 
of the Spaniard. They were the two Chouteaus, Au- 
guste and Jean Pierre. I had heard much of them, 


26 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

both in Philadelphia and in Kentucky, and I found 
it difficult to conceal the curiosity with which I re- 
garded them. I had expected to find two rough fron- 
tiersmen, somewhat after the manner of Daniel Boone 
or Simon Kenyon, both of whom I had seen at Gen- 
eral Clarke’s; but they were very far from that. Au- 
guste, the elder, and who, almost more than his step- 
father, Laclede, was the founder of St. Louis, was the 
graver of the two, N with keen, shrewd eyes that be- 
tokened the successful man of business. Pierre (as 
everybody called the younger) looked not at all like 
his brother: taller and slenderer of build, his flash- 
ing dark eyes and gay manners must have been in- 
herited from his father, Laclede, for Madame Chou- 
teau v (- whom I came to know very well later) was even 
graver and sterner in manner than her eldest son, 
Auguste. 

But interested as I was in meeting these men,— and 
there were many others of whom I had heard, Man- 
uel Lisa, Gabriel Cerre, Francis Vigo, and Josef 
Marie Papin,— I could not resist casting many a fur- 
tive glance toward a table set in the rear of the great 
room. My bowl of gruel in the early morning had 
satisfied me at the time, but I was still weak from 
illness and much fasting, and my hard pull at the 
paddles had left me famished indeed. It was now, 
I was quite sure by the sun and the shadows, nearly 
eleven o’clock, and I began to feel the dizziness once 
more, and to be seized with a terrible fear that I 
should again be overcome. It was with a great joy, 
therefore, that I began to observe black servants 


1 PROPOSE A TOAST 


27 


bringing in smoking viands and arranging them upon 
the table, and no words ever sounded more pleasant 
in my ears than the governor’s invitation to break- 
fast. 

As we were about to sit down, my captain on the 
governor’s right, and I very kindly placed on his left, 
with Mr. Pierre Chouteau beside me, there was a noise 
at the door, and Mr. Gratiot and Dr. Saugrain en- 
tered. They were welcomed in such fashion it was 
easy to see they were both prime favorites in that 
society. In response to my captain’s inquiries, they 
said they had left Cahokia very shortly after us, 
bringing the young ladies over in two small boats, 
and the boats being light and easily handled, they had 
nearly overtaken us. 

At the mention of the young ladies I felt myself 
flush painfully, and I almost thought the little doc- 
tor regarded me with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. 
But I was not sure, and I resolutely put the thought 
of them out of my mind, while I devoted myself to the 
more serious matters of the table. 

And, indeed, seldom has it been my lot to sit down 
to a more delicious meal. It was my first taste of 
French cookery, and I proved then, what I had often 
heard, that the French have a talent for savors and 
seasonings, and for dainty service, denied to us Anglo- 
Saxons. It may be, also, that my long fasting (for 
my light breakfast had hardly broken my fast) added 
a sauce to the viands more potent than any French- 
man’s skill, for my appetite had come back with a 
rush, and for the first time in many days I ate like 


28 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


a well man, and a very hungry one. So well, for- 
sooth, did I ply my knife and fork that Pierre Chou- 
teau could not forbear congratulating me, in his 
polished French manner, on my prowess as a trench- 
erman ; at which I had the grace to blush. 

And now, having taken the edge off my hunger, I 
had leisure to enjoy the swift exchange of wit and 
repartee flashing back and forth across the table in 
mixed English, French, and Spanish. There had been 
many toasts, most courteously worded and delicately 
drunk, for I noticed these Frenchmen were not deep 
drinkers, and did not feel it necessary to drain their 
glasses at every toast, as is the manner in Kentucky. 
My captain’s health had been drunk and he had re- 
sponded with the governor’s (nor did our polite hosts 
forget to honor me), and the gaiety began to grow 
somewhat noisy ,• when a youngster, who had, no doubt, 
been drinking a little more than was good for him, 
sprang to his feet. Waving his goblet toward Yorke 
(who stood behind Captain Clarke’s chair grinning 
delightedly at every flash of wit, whether he under- 
stood it or not), he called out: 

“ I drink to the health of Monsieur Yorke, gentle- 
men, tallest and most smiling of sable Mercurys. May 
his inches never be fewer nor his smiles grow less. ’ ’ 

I saw my captain frown, and Yorke, who did not 
understand one word that was said, since it was all 
in French, easily understood the gesture toward him, 
and the hesitating glances in his direction, and the 
half-lifted glasses as their owners were in doubt 
whether the toast was to he taken in jest or earnest. 


I PROPOSE A TOAST 


29 


His eyes rolled in terror from the proposer of the 
toast to Captain Clarke, and back again. I knew my 
captain would never brook the indignity of having 
his health drunk at the same table and by the same 
people who afterward drank his slave’s, and fearing 
an awkward contretemps, I sprang to my feet to avert 
it. I lifted my glass high as I cried : 

“Listen to me, messieurs! Is there no fair lady to 
whose honor your young men would drink? For 
never could we drink to the ladies after drinking to a 
negro and a slave. I give you, messieurs, the fairest 
lady in St. Louis! ” 

As I said it, for one fleeting moment I had a vision 
of a round white arm bare to the shoulder, a slender 
hand grasping a tawny mane, and black eyes flash- 
ing with scorn. Perhaps it was due to that vision 
that my voice had a ring in it that brought every man 
to his feet, and as glasses clinked, each man drank 
to the lady of his love with a rousing cheer. 

As we brought our glasses to the table, rims down, 
the young man who had proposed Yorke s health 
said, with a bow of apology to me : 

“I accept my rebuke, and if the gentleman permit 
I would like to repeat his toast: To the fairest lady 
in St. Louis— Dr. Saugrain’s ward!” 

“Fill up your glasses, gentlemen, drain them to 
the lees, and throw them over your shoulders ; ’t is a 
worthy toast,” cried the governor; and, filling his to 
the brim, and draining it at one draught, he flung it 
over his shoulder— an example which the others, 
benedict and bachelor, followed with ardor. In the 


30 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


midst of the crashing of glass, I thought I caught Dr. 

Saugrain’s and Mr. Gratiot's eyes fixed curiously on 

me. I turned to Mr. Pierre Chouteau : 

“ Dr. Saugrain’s ward must be fair indeed, to 

rouse such enthusiasm,” I said. 

“Vraiment,” returned Pierre, “she is the Rose of 

St. Louis. But you dine with Dr. Saugrain to-day: 

you will see, and then you will know. Young Josef 

Papin yonder, who proposed the toast, is wild about 

her. And so are half the young men of the village.” 

“Vraiment,” I murmured to myself, “if she is 

fairer than the scornful Mademoiselle Pelagie, she 

is fair indeed! ” 

* 

And yet I found myself looking forward to Dr. 
Saugrain’s dinner with suppressed excitement, while 
I puzzled my brains to interpret his and Mr. Gra- 
tiot’s enigmatical glances in my direction. 


CHAPTER III 


I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

“ I am his Highness’s dog at Kew ; 

Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?” 

“ ALLONS !” said Mr. Pierre Chouteau, “I will show 
you the village. There are yet two hours before 
Dr. Saugrain’s dinner-hour arrives.” 

We were standing on the wide gallery of Govern- 
ment House, looking up the Rue de la Tour to the 
“Fort on the Hill” with its massive round towers of 
stone and high stockade. We had made our adieus to 
Governor Delassus, and we were quite ready to ac- 
cept Mr. Chouteau’s invitation. Mr. Gratiot and Mr. 
Auguste Chouteau excused themselves from accom- 
panying us on the ground of pressing business, but 
Mr. Auguste Chouteau said he hoped soon to see us 
at his ow T n house, and Mr. Gratiot promised to meet 
us at dinner at Dr. Saugrain’s. 

So it was only four of us who set out (or five, if 
you count the black as one), Mr. Chouteau and my 
captain leading, Dr. Saugrain and I following, with 
Yorke trailing in the rear; for Captain Clarke did 
not dare leave that ingenious black to his own de- 
vices, being well assured that it would certainly result 
in disaster to himself or to some of the habitans. 


31 


32 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Diagonally across the street, at the corner of the 
Rue de la Tour and the Rue Royale, was a large gar- 
den, shut in by solid stone walls higher than a man’s 
head. Over the top of the walls fell branches of fruit- 
trees, and grape-vines still with a few clusters of late 
grapes hanging from them. Beyond were the tops 
of lofty shade-trees, and between the branches, where 
the foliage was rapidly thinning, we could catch 
glimpses of the stone chimneys and dormer-windows 
of a great house. 

We turned into the Rue Royale and walked by the 
stone wall stretching north a long distance. The 
morning had been frosty, but the noon sun was hot, 
and we were glad to shelter ourselves under the over- 
hanging boughs. It was Auguste Chouteau’s place, 
but Pierre said he would let his brother have the 
pleasure of showing it to us; and we were about to 
pass the wide entrance-gate half-way down the long 
wall when we were stopped by a strange procession. 
Out of the gate filed slowly, solemnly, one at a time, 
a long line of fantastically dressed Indians. The two 
in front were attired alike in shabby old United States 
uniforms, with gold epaulets much tarnished and 
worn, dilapidated gold lace on collars and sleeves, 
and wearing on their heads military hats with long 
draggled plumes. Prom thigh to the low moccasins 
their legs were entirely unclothed, and a more ludi- 
crous combination than the civilized coats and the 
bare brown legs I had never seen. The two in military 
coats were evidently chiefs, and were followed by a 
long line of braves sweltering under heavy Mackinac 


I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 


33 


blankets, each armed with a scarlet umbrella in 
one hand and a palm-leaf fan in the other, to pro- 
tect them from the sun. Apparently they did not 
glance in our direction, but each one as he passed Mr. 
Chouteau saluted him with a guttural “Ugh!” to 
which Mr. Chouteau responded in the most military 
fashion. 

“They are on their way to my place, and we 
will let them get well ahead of us,” Mr. Chouteau 
said, as the last brave passed us. “ It would hardly 
be dignified to be trailing in their rear; we will step 
into my brother’s garden for a moment and give them 
time to get out of our way.” 

The massive gates, which, I saw, could be heavily 
bolted and barred, stood open, and we passed through 
into a park-like inclosure, beautifully laid out and 
kept in perfect order, with velvet turf and noble for- 
est trees, and, in one part, a garden of vegetables and 
flowers. Set in the midst was a noble stone mansion 
some sixty feet in front, with wide galleries shaded 
by a projection of sloping roof, which was pierced by 
dormer-windows. Several smaller stone buildings 
were grouped around it, and from one to the other 
negroes were passing on various errands, giving a 
cheerful impression of industry and prosperity. I 
caught the flutter of a white dress disappearing 
through a wide door opening from the gallery into the 
house, and I would have liked to get a nearer view of 
the mansion and its inmates. But an exclamation 
from Mr. Chouteau put all thoughts of petticoats out 
of my mind. 

3 


34 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“Diable!” he ejaculated, “ ’t is Black Hawk 
himself. Now what is the meaning of this, think 
you?” 

I followed his glance, and saw coming from one of 
the outbuildings the noblest specimen of a savage I 
had ever beheld. Unlike the others, he was decked in 
no worn-out finery of the white man, bestowed upon 
him in exchange for valuable furs, but in the fitting 
costume of a great chief, his head-dress of eagle 
feathers falling back from the top of his head almost 
to his high beaded moccasins. He was far above the 
usual stature of Indians, and what increased his ap- 
pearance of height was the lofty brow and noble 
dome, beneath which two piercing eyes and strong 
aquiline nose gave additional character to a most 
striking face. 

I thought both Mr. Chouteau and Dr. Saugrain 
looked a little troubled for a moment, but as the sav- 
age stalked majestically toward us, Pierre advanced 
to meet him, and with a courteous but commanding 
wave of his hand stopped him. 

“What has brought my brother from his island on 
the bosom of the Great Father of Waters?” he asked, 
after both had exchanged formal greetings. 

Black Hawk turned his piercing eyes upon my cap- 
tain. “It was whispered among my braves,” he said, 
“that the great Captain of the Long Knives had sent 
his brother to St. Louis. I bring him a greeting from 
my people.” 

Most men would have been abashed by the cere- 
monial tone and gestures with which Black Hawk 


35 


I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

accompanied his speech, hut if my captain felt any 
embarrassment he did not show it. With as ceremo- 
nious a manner as the chief ’s, he replied at once : 

“The great chief of the Sacs has honored my bro- 
ther and myself. I will bear your greeting to the Cap- 
tain of the Long Knives, and it will fill his heart with 
happiness to know his red brother has not forgotten 
him.” 

Black Hawk only grunted approval, but I think he 
was pleased, for he turned to Mr. Chouteau with a 
more condescending manner: 

“I will go with my brother to his wigwam. I will 
eat with him and sleep with him.” 

There was nothing for Mr. Chouteau to do but ac- 
quiesce, though when his back was turned on Black 
Hawk he made a queer grimace and said rapidly, in 
English, which probably Black Hawk did not under- 
stand : 

“There will be trouble, my friends; my yard is full 
of Mandans, Arickarees, and Osages. They love not 
the Sacs, and Black Hawk is a turbulent fellow if any 
misunderstanding should arise. You see,” he said to 
Captain Clarke, lapsing again into French, “these 
fellows have usually started back up the Missouri 
long before this time, but they have all waited this year 
to see the brother of the great Captain of the Long 
Knives. They planned their exit from Auguste’s yard 
at the exact moment to get a good look at you. ’ ’ 

My captain laughed his hearty laugh. 

“And then they glanced not in my direction even, 
after all. ’ ’ 


36 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“Do not deceive yourself, mon capitaine; they 
looked you over thoroughly. Not one of them but 
would know you again among a thousand. But they 
timed their exit also with the hope of making an im- 
pression on you, and to that end, as you saw, had 
donned their finest toggery. ’ ’ 

We had left Auguste Chouteau’s yard and were 
going north again along the stone wall, Black Hawk 
stalking majestically beside Captain Clarke, upon 
whom he from time to time looked down and bestowed 
a grunt of approval. Across the street from us now 
was an open square (La Place Publique, Mr. Chou- 
teau called it), and drawn up around it were many 
queer little French charrettes , loaded with cord-wood 
and drawn by small mustangs. The owners of the 
charrettes were most of them taking a noonday nap 
under the shade of the trees in La Place, and their 
mustangs were nodding drowsily in their shafts in 
sympathy with their owners. This w T as the same open 
place we had first come upon after climbing the 
bluff, and now, as we came to the corner of La Place, 
and the street leading down to the river (Mr. Chou- 
teau said the street was called La Rue Bonhomme), 
I looked down the steep road and saw at the foot of it 
the landing-place, and our boats tied to great posts, 
with some of our men in charge. 

I could distinguish on the great flatboat that had 
followed us, carrying our provisions and our horses, 
my own mare, Fatima, with her proudly arched neck. 
Before I had time to think of my manners I had put 
my fingers to my lips and uttered through them the 


I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 


37 


shrill whistle with which I had used to call her. In- 
stantly her head was flung swiftly up, and I saw her 
start as if to come to me, while up the bluff was 
borne her shrill whinnies, high above the shouts of the 
men, who had as much as they could do to keep her 
from breaking halter in her mad plunge for liberty 
to answer the call she had never disobeyed. 

I w r as ashamed of my boyish trick, and apologized 
at once to the two gentlemen and to my captain. 
But Dr. Saugrain said it was a fortunate reminder: 
if we cared to send for our horses they could meet 
us at Mr. Chouteau’s, for it would be a long and hot 
walk from there to his house at the extreme southern 
end of the village. So Yorke was despatched for the 
two horses, and right glad was I at the thought of 
being on Fatima’s back once more, for it was a full 
two weeks since I had mounted her. 

We were on the next block now, skirting another 
stone wall with overhanging boughs. Mr. Chouteau 
said it was his mother’s place, and he would have to 
insist upon our stopping to pay our respects to her. 

“You know,” he said, “madame ma mere is a sort 
of mother to the village, and she would feel herself 
deeply aggrieved should such distinguished guests 
pass her by.” 

We entered another inclosure beautifully embow- 
ered in trees, and found a long, low building, not of 
stone, like her son’s house, but built, in the French 
fashion, of upright logs. On the wide gallery sat 
Madame Chouteau herself, dressed in the style of the 
habitans who had filled the streets on our arrival, 


38 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


but in richer materials. Her petticoat was of black 
satin, and her short gown, or jacket, was of purple 
velvet with wide lace in sleeves and at the neck, and 
gorgeously beaded moccasins on her feet. But it 
was her head-dress which struck me as the most re- 
markable part of her costume, and Pierre Chouteau 
whispered to us, with a droll grimace: 

“Regardez the head-dress of madame; she expects 
us, is it not? She is en fete.” 

It seemed to be a handkerchief of some thin mate- 
rial, purple in color, and worn like a turban, but 
entwined with ribbons and flowers until it became 
a gorgeous coronet, and added indescribably to the 
majesty of her presence. Already over seventy, with 
white hair, she was yet as erect as a girl, and her eye 
was as keen as an eagle’s. Even my captain was 
abashed before its glances, which seemed to be taking 
a complete inventory of his physical, mental, and 
moral qualities. It was a bad quarter of an hour for 
me (whom she hardly deigned to notice), in spite of 
the good ratafia and delicious croquecignolles a small 
black boy brought out on a tray and placed on a 
stand at her side, and which she served to us with 
stately courtesy. 

As for Black Hawk, it was more than he could 
stand when her severely questioning glance fell upon 
him. Without losing an ace of his dignified solem- 
nity of demeanor, he turned his back abruptly on 
the old lady, and stalked slowly and majestically 
down the path and out the gate. We hoped we had 
rid ourselves of him, but we found him waiting for 


39 


I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

us when we had made our formal adieus to madame. 
Just before we reached Pierre Chouteau’s house he 
dropped back and walked beside Dr. Saugrain and 
myself. I thought he wished to pay me some of the re- 
spect he had been showing my captain, and I felt 
flattered accordingly. But I was mistaken; he had 
something to say to Dr. Saugrain. With many pre- 
monitory grunts he said it finally, and it had a star- 
tling effect upon the little doctor. 

“Let great medicine-man watch,” said Black 
Hawk, solemnly; “White Wolf will steal Little Black 
Eyes. Black Hawk has many ears and many eyes; 
he has seen White Wolf talking to Red Dog, and he 
has heard their w’hispers.” 

Such was the doctor’s agitation that, although we 
were just entering Mr. Chouteau’s great yard (so 
filled with all manner of buildings, warehouses, shops, 
and cabins for negroes and Indians that it seemed 
like a separate village of itself), he called to my cap- 
tain and Mr. Chouteau and begged them to excuse 
him. He felt that he must return home at once and 
assure himself of the safety of his ward, he said, 
though we need not cut short our visit to Mr. Chou- 
teau, but come to him later, in time for dinner. But 
Yorke coming up at that moment with our horses, and 
riding his own, Captain Clarke bade him dismount 
and give his horse to Dr. Saugrain, and insisted upon 
accompanying him home. Mr. Chouteau readily ex- 
cused us, only courteously making a condition that 
the visit cut short now should be renewed at our earli- 
est convenience. 


40 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


As for me, I was a little sorry not to see more of 
Mr. Chouteau’s place, for everywhere there were 
throngs of Indians in picturesque costume, and on 
the gallery of the great house a bevy of young 
maidens evidently awaiting our approach. But Fa- 
tima was calling me frantically with her delighted 
neighs, and the moment I was on her back, and felt 
her silken muscles stretch and tighten rhythmically 
beneath me, I cared no more for Mr. Chouteau’s in- 
teresting place with its Indians and young maidens, 
and only longed for a right to leave my companions 
and have one good dash with Fatima across country, 
over fences and ditches. I would not have been 
afraid, in my present mood, to have put her at the 
high stone walls with which every one in St. Louis 
seemed to fence in his place, and so wild with de- 
light was Fatima at meeting her master once more 
I think she would have taken them like a bird. 

But the doctor was more impatient than I, and 
first taking Black Hawk aside for a minute’s low- 
toned consultation, he made his hasty adieus to our 
host, and bidding us follow him, he was off. Turning 
off the Rue Royale into the Rue Bonhomme, he went 
up the hill a long block to the Rue de l’Eglise, and 
then, turning to the left, he called back to us: 

“ ’T is a straight road from here on, messieurs; 
shall we race for it? It may mean more than life to 
a fair lady.” 

For answer I laid the reins on Fatima’s glossy 
neck and whispered to her: 

“Get up, Sweetheart!” 


41 


I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

In a flash she had passed the two other horses and 
her dainty hoofs were flinging the soft dirt of the 
road in their faces. It was more a country lane than 
a village street, with scattered houses tree-embow- 
ered, and just back of Auguste Chouteau’s place, 
which I recognized from the rear, was a church, and 
behind it the crosses of many graves, and beside it 
a priest's house with two black-robed priests taking 
a noonday siesta in comfortable chairs on the shady, 
vine-covered gallery. They awoke with a start as 
Fatima thundered by, and the two other horses, now 
well in the rear, pounded after, and I doubt not they 
thought it was the beginning of another 1780 affair, so 
frightened did they look. 

It did not take Fatima long to cover that mile and 
a half, and when I saw that we were approaching the 
stockade at the end of the road, with only one house 
between (which, like the Chouteaus’, was set in a 
great yard inclosed with high stone walls), I drew rein 
under a wide-spreading oak and waited for the others. 
And as I waited I began once more to wonder what 
kind of creature Dr. Saugrain's ward could be: the 
acknowledged belle of St. Louis and now in some ex- 
treme danger from a white villain and a rascally In- 
dian, for so I had easily understood Black Hawk’s 
figurative language— the White Wolf and the Red 
Dog. 

I could hear the soft thrumming of a guitar, and a 
low voice crooning songs, of which I could now and 
then catch a word of the creole French. I did not 
doubt it was the doctor’s ward who thus beguiled the 


42 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


hours with melody, and I grew vastly impatient to 
meet the loveliest lady in St. Louis and the sweetest 
of singers, if I could judge from the snatches of song 
that floated to my ears. 

In a minute more the doctor himself rode up, shout- 
ing lustily before he reached the gate, “Narcisse, Nar- 
cisse!” which put a sudden end to the music. As a 
black boy ran out in answer to his call, the doctor 
sprang as nimbly from his horse as I myself could 
have done, and flung the boy his reins with a sharp 
command to take care of the horses. He started 
swiftly for the house, but stopped suddenly and 
turned to Narcisse. 

“ Where are your mistress and mademoiselle ? ’ ’ he 
asked, in a tone so sharp and excited the boy was 
frightened and stammered as he answered: 

‘ 4 In the house, sir. ’ 9 

“You are sure?” 

“Yes, sir; ’fore God, sir, they’re in the living- 
room this minute. ’ ’ 

“Thank God!” ejaculated the doctor, and then I 
saw, to my astonishment, that he was all white and 
trembling. He recovered himself in a moment and 
turned to us with the suavity of a genial host : 

“Gentlemen, I fear that rascal Black Hawk has 
played us a scurvy trick; very likely for reasons of 
his own he wanted to get rid of me. He has given me 
a bad quarter of an hour, but otherwise he has only 
given me the pleasure of welcoming you a little earlier 
to Emigre’s Retreat. Let us go find the ladies.” 

Before we had time to reply, round the corner of 


I MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 


43 


the house sauntered slowly a huge mastiff, and as I 
caught a glimpse of him my heart sank into my 
boots, and there seemed to rise into my throat a tu- 
multuous heating that was nigh to choking me : not 
from fear of the dog, though the moment he caught 
sight of me he stopped, every muscle tense, the hair 
on his mane erect, his eyes red, glowing, vicious, while 
he uttered one deep angry growl after another. 

It was not fear of the brute that set my pulses 
throbbing painfully: it was the truth that flashed 
upon me for the first time— Dr. Saugrain’s ward was 
Mademoiselle Pelagie! At that moment through the 
open door came a clear whistle and the sweetest voice 
I had ever heard, calling in ringing tones of com- 
mand : 

“Amoi, Leon!” 


CHAPTER IV 


I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 

"A rosebud set with little wilful thorns ” 

I T was too late to beat a retreat. I caught once 
more a merry twinkle in the little doctor’s eyes 
as we followed the dog, who, obedient to his mistress’s 
voice, had rushed before us into the house. I felt 
the red blood surging to the roots of my hair, and I 
knew when I stopped on the threshold beside my cap- 
tain to make my grand bow that I looked more like 
an awkward country lout than the fine gentleman I 
was in the habit of considering myself. 

I hardly dared raise my eyes, and yet I saw very 
distinctly that if Mademoiselle Pelagie in ball costume 
was bewitching, Mademoiselle Pelagie in simple morn- 
ing dress was an angel. The room was a long, low one, 
cool and shady from the sheltering galleries outside, 
and with many windows, all open to catch the south- 
ern breezes that kept the dimity curtains bellying like 
white sails. On a low seat beside one of the open win- 
dows, looking out into cool depths of dusky green, sat 
Mademoiselle Pelagie. Her white dress, short of skirt 
44 


I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 


45 


and reaching hardly to the daintiest of ankles, was 
just low enough in the neck to show the round, white 
throat, and just short enough in the sleeve to leave un- 
covered below the elbow the beautifully molded arm. 
Across her shoulders was a broad blue ribbon that held 
the guitar to whose soft thrumming I had been listen- 
ing, and one restraining hand was laid on Leon’s head, 
who sat beside her, erect on his haunches, regarding 
me with angry suspicion. 

She rose as we entered, and still holding her guitar 
with one arm, while the other hand lifted her skirt 
daintily, she made us the deepest and most graceful 
of curtsies. Then she lifted her dark eyes shyly to 
Captain Clarke and with a ravishing smile bade him 
welcome in broken English. To me she vouchsafed 
not even a glance. I stood by stiff as any martinet 
while she made soft speeches to the captain in her 
adorable baby-English, and the captain responded in 
his most gallant fashion. 

I grew more rigid and more gauche every minute, 
and I know not what would have become of me if the 
doctor, who had left the room to look for his wife, had 
not come to my relief. He came in, bringing Madame 
Saugrain with him, and a sweet and simple little old 
lady she proved to be. Her cap was almost as flowery 
as Madame Chouteau’s, but she was as warm and cor- 
dial in her manner as the other was stern and forbid- 
ding. She greeted my captain first, of course, but she 
was as cordial to me as to him, and in her motherly 
way she called me “My son,” which, after my icy 
reception from another lady, went straight to my 


46 


THE ROSE OP OLD ST LOUIS 


heart. I was grateful to her in spite of the fear I felt 
that it was my very youthful appearance had called 
forth the endearing term. 

We were all comfortably seated, Captain Clarke 
chatting gaily with Mademoiselle Pelagie, I pointedly 
addressing all my conversation to Dr. Saugrain and 
madame, when Narcisse came in with a tray of cooling 
drinks— a mild and pleasant beverage made of rasp- 
berry conserves and lime- juice mixed with some spir- 
its and plenty of cold spring water. I liked it well, 
and would have taken another glass, for I was thirsty 
and our ride had been a warm one, and Madame Sau- 
grain urged it upon me, but as I was about to take it 
I heard a saucy voice saying : 

“ ’T is no wonder that you empty not your glass, 
Captain Clarke; ’t is a drink much more suited to 
maidens and to young boys than to men.” 

My glass was half extended, but I drew it back has- 
tily, and then was angry with myself, for I heard a 
mocking laugh that I was sure was intended for me, 
and for the life of me I could not refrain from glan- 
cing quickly in mademoiselle’s direction. Her eyes 
met mine with more of scorn in their dark depths than 
I could well stand. I gazed steadily into them for as 
much as half a second with all the defiance in my 
glance I knew how to convey, and then I turned again 
to Madame Saugrain : 

“If you will permit me to change my mind, ma- 
dame,” I said, “I would like another glass of your 
delicious beverage. ’ 9 

And then, lifting it to my lips, I added: 


I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 


47 


“I drink to the ladies: they add fragrance and 
beauty to our lives, like the red berries; comfort 
and strength, like this good ratafia; sweetness, like 
the sugar; and if sometimes they also add bitter- 
ness and acid, like the limes, it is doubtless for our 
good.” 

The gentlemen both touched glasses with me as they 
drank to my toast, the little doctor preternaturally sol- 
emn, and my captain almost as grave, but for a wicked 
twinkle in his eye. I knew they thought my toast 
a boyish one, and doubtless understood its inspiration, 
while they struggled to preserve their gravity out of 
courtesy to me. Whether mademoiselle’s eyes were 
more mocking than ever I did not know, for I looked 
not in her direction. But madame glowed with genu- 
ine pleasure and declared ’t was a pretty toast, and 
she thanked me for her share in it. Whereupon made- 
moiselle said in the gravest voice : 

“ I also, monsieur, thank you for my share in it, for 
I suppose the lime-juice is mine,” and, to my amaze- 
ment, when, as in duty bound, I glanced at her, since 
she spoke directly to me, I saw that her eyes were 
downcast, and the richest color had flamed into the 
warm white of her cheeks. 

I know not what I might have said or done, so re- 
pentant was I at once for having caused her annoy- 
ance, had not a short, sharp exclamation from Dr. 
Saugrain startled us all : 

“ ’T is that skulking Osage again. What does he 
here, Narcisse?” 

“He bring note, m’seh, for La Petite,” answered 


48 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Narcisse, rolling his eyes at the unwonted sharpness 
in his master’s tones. 

Dr. Saugrain turned at once to mademoiselle. 

“Pelagie,” he said, “what does this mean? Who 
is sending you notes by Red Jean?” 

Mademoiselle looked up half defiantly, half in- 
clined not to reply to such peremptory questioning in 
the presence of strangers. But on second thought she 
answered quite submissively : 

‘ ‘ It was the young Chevalier Le Moyne who is stay- 
ing at Gabriel Cerre ’s. ’ ’ 

“Now, I like not that,” said the doctor, hastily ; and 
then bethinking himself, he ordered Narcisse to take 
away the empty glasses and keep an eye on Red Jean. 

“Don’t let him get out of your sight as long as he 
stays about the place ; he will be stealing the horses if 
you don’t watch him.” 

The moment Narcisse had left the room the doctor 
repeated : 

“I like not that; I begin to think Black Hawk may 
have had good reason to warn us against the White 
Wolf and the Red Dog.” 

Then, turning to mademoiselle, he added more 
gently : 

“I like not to inquire into mademoiselle’s little af- 
fairs, but this is of the gravest importance. Will you 
tell us the contents of that note, ma chere?” 

Mademoiselle hesitated, and glanced almost uncon- 
sciously at the captain and at me. We both sprang 
to our feet at the same moment, and the captain 
spoke : 


I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 


49 


“The lad and I will step out on the gallery, where, 
if you permit, we w r ill light our pipes.” 

But with a quick gesture of dissent, mademoiselle 
also sprang to her feet. 

“No, no! mon capitaine, no, no! Meestaire, it is 
not’ing, not’ing. I will say all before you. ’T is only 
that the chevalier asks may he escort me to the peek- 
neek on Chouteau’s Pond.” 

* ‘ Sit down, gentlemen, if you please, ’ ’ said the doc- 
tor; “I think it wise for us to hold a council of war. 
I shall need your advice much, possibly your help. 
First, I want to say that some weeks ago I received 
letters from France warning me of a plot to capture 
Mademoiselle Pelagie and carry her back to France. A 
week ago this mysterious stranger arrived in St. Louis. 
Gabriel Cerre picked him up in Ste. Genevieve and 
brought him home with him, and that is about all any 
one knows of him, except that he claims to be of an 
old French family, who has saved enough from the 
wreck to permit him to travel and see the world. 
When he has finished this trip he declares he will re- 
turn and settle on his estates on the Loire which he 
says have been returned to him by Bonaparte. Whe- 
ther Black Hawk meant him when he bade me beware 
of the White Wolf I know not. I could get very little 
information when I spoke to him before leaving Pierre 
Chouteau’s, and I am not sure he had any to give me, 
yet I think he knows something. I confess I have been 
suspicious of this fellow from the first, arriving, as he 
did, on the heels o| my letter of warning. And now 
what think you ’t is best to do ?” 


50 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I was eager enough to say what I thought best to do, 
but I knew my place better than to speak before my 
elders, and so I waited for my captain. Mademoiselle 
was not so modest, or perhaps she thought no one had 
a better right than herself to speak on a subject so 
nearly concerning her. 

“I think, sir,” she said, lapsing into her native 
tongue, “you wrong the Chevalier Le Moyne. I have 
seen much of him in the week of his stay at Gabriel 
Cerre’s, and he has been invariably respectful and 
most gentleman-like in all his demeanor.” 

“ ’T is the very fact of his seeing so much of you, 
my child, that first roused my suspicions. He is for- 
ever hanging round you at dance and dinner ; not even 
Josef Papin gets much chance to come nigh you.” 

Mademoiselle flushed slightly at the mention of 
Josef Papin’s name — a name I was beginning, for 
some reason, to dislike. 

“I should think,” she said demurely, “there might 
be other reasons for that than suspicious ones”; and 
then she laughed merrily when I murmured, “Yrai- 
ment !” and touched my heart with my handkerchief. 
I thought she was mocking me again. 

“Mademoiselle is quite right,” said Captain Clarke, 
gravely; “there are doubtless very natural reasons for 
the chevalier’s devotion, yet I think it would be well, 
nevertheless, to act on Dr. Saugrain’s suspicions. 
May I inquire whether mademoiselle has accepted the 
chevalier’s offer of escort?” 

We all listened eagerly for the answer. 

“No,” said mademoiselle; “I had just received the 


1 MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 


51 


note when you arrived, and I would not answer it 
until I had consulted my guardian. He is very stern 
with me, messieurs/ ’ turning to us with a witch- 
ing smile that I could see pleased the good doctor 
greatly. 

“Then,” continued the captain, “it would be a 
very easy matter, I suppose, to decline his escort.” 

But La Petite pouted. 

“Not so easy, mon capitaine. I have no reason to 
offer, and it would shut me off from accepting a sec- 
ond invitation.” 

“I think,” said Dr. Saugrain, “it would be better 
that you should not go to the picnic. Chouteau’s 
Pond is beyond the stockade, and shut in by the 
woods ; it would be an ideal spot for a surprise and a 
capture. There are always plenty of rascally Osages 
to be hired for a trifle to carry out any such villainy.” 

“Not go!” exclaimed mademoiselle, in dismay. 
“But it is given for me ! It is my fete ! Josef Papin 
planned it entirely for me, he said.” 

Mademoiselle was now growing rosy red, for, with 
a child’s eagerness to carry her point at all hazards, 
she had said more than she meant to. 

“Then why did not Josef offer himself as your 
escort ? ’ ’ 

“He will, probably, later; but,” and she tossed 
her head like the spoiled beauty she was, “it will serve 
him right, for being so slow, to find that I have ac- 
cepted another. Besides which,” and she shrugged 
her shoulders with all the airs of a Parisian dame, 
“you know your bourgeois etiquette. I cannot accept 


52 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


another: it would be a just cause for a duel au pis- 
tolets.” 

“C’est vrai,” said the doctor, with an answering 
shrug, and looking woefully perplexed. 

“Now, if you will permit me,” suggested the cap- 
tain, “since mademoiselle is so sure Mr. Papin will ask 
her later, why can she not plead to the chevalier a 
previous engagement?” 

But not for a moment would mademoiselle listen to 
that. 

“And be the laughing-stock of all St. Louis when 
it gets about, as it surely will. I refuse the chevalier 
because I prefer to wait for Monsieur Papin. Mon- 
sieur Papin hears of it and invites some one else to 
teach me not to be so sure, or, ’ 9 primly, 4 4 1 have given 
him undue encouragement.” 

4 4 Then,” said the doctor, gravely, 44 1 see nothing 
for it but that you stay away from the picnic and 
write the chevalier that you have decided not to go 
Unless,” he added hastily, seeing the gathering storm 
on Pelagie’s brow, 4 4 uni ess — ” and then he hesitated, 
much embarrassed. 4 4 Perhaps our young friend here 
would like to attend one of our rural picnics, and 
would be willing to look after you and give you the 
opportunity of writing to the chevalier that you have 
a previous engagement.” 

It was now my turn to blush. I had been ardently 
longing to offer my services, but not for a moment had 
I thought of daring. Now it was thrust upon me. 

4 4 If mademoiselle would be so good,” I murmured, 
bowing low, 44 1 am her obedient servant.” 


I MAKE AN ENGAGEMENT 


53 


But mademoiselle was speechless. One moment she 
turned white, and the next she turned red, and then 
white again. When she found her voice she said, 
looking, not at all at me, but straight at Dr. Saugrain: 

“I will remain at home, monsieur. I care not to be 
a burden upon unwilling hands.’ ’ 

And then rising to her feet, with her head held 
high, her guitar on one arm, and the other hand still 
on the mastiff’s head, she said : 

“Allons, Leon!” and was sweeping proudly from 
the room. 

I was in such consternation that probably I would 
have sat like any bumpkin and let her go, if not that, 
as she passed me, although her head was turned from 
me, it was not quite so much turned but that I caught 
a sudden quiver of the little chin, held proudly in air, 
and something bright glistening on the long, dark 
lashes. I sprang quickly before her. There was an 
angry growl from Leon, who no doubt thought I in- 
tended to serve his mistress the same trick I had 
served him, but I did not heed it. 

“Mademoiselle!” I entreated, “I beg you will re- 
consider. Nothing could give me more pride and 
pleasure. Besides,” adopting an argumentative tone, 
“you know it would be my only chance for attending 
the picnic, and I have a vast desire to engage in some 
of your St. Louis festivities, and to meet some of the 
young maidens I was deprived of meeting last night.” 

She was compelled to stop,— I barred her way; but 
for a few moments she showed no signs of relenting. 
She dashed away the shining drops from her lashes, 


54 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and quieted Leon with a low “Taise-toi.” But 
gradually I saw her face change, and then, still hold- 
ing herself proudly, and with the air of a queen gra- 
ciously condescending to bestow a favor upon a sup- 
pliant, but also with a smile of radiant sweetness, she 
spoke, and her voice was like the song of the thrush 
beside running waters : 

“Very well, monsieur; if I am not to he considered 
as putting myself under obligations to a stranger, I 
will go and write the chevalier that I have a previous 
engagement.” 


CHAPTER V 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 

u Many a youth and many a maid 
Dancing in the chequered shade.” 

T HE good doctor uttered a sigh of relief as made- 
moiselle left the room, followed by madame, who 
no doubt, in the goodness of her heart, went out to 
praise the young lady for having done as she ought, 
and to condole with her for being obliged to go to the 
picnic with a man she knew so slightly, and knew but 
to dislike. 

The sigh was quickly followed by a frown. 

“I wish that my ward had not so strong a will of 
her own. I scarce think it safe for her to go to Chou- 
teau s Pond at all if, as I fear, her enemies are plot- 
ting to capture her. ’ 9 

I will defend her with my life, si **, 99 I hastened to 
aver, “ since you are so good as to intrust her to me.” 

The doctor smiled at my boyish ardor, but said 
kindly : 

I would trust her with you sooner than with most, 
my lad, for I believe I have seen enough of you to 
know that you are brave to a fault, and entirely trust- 
55 


56 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


worthy. But you know not the wiles of these treach- 
erous Osages, and if this Chevalier Le Moyne is the 
man I fear he is, he is a much to be dreaded villain. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Whom do you fear him to be ? ’ ’ the captain and I 
uttered in one breath. 

Th6 good doctor hesitated a moment and then 
seemed to take a sudden determination. 

“I am afraid I have no right to be letting you into 
my confidence, for it is not mine alone. In what I am 
about to say to you it is my country reposing a con- 
fidence as well. But our brief acquaintance has in- 
spired me with trust in you both, and I have need of 
advice and help in this emergency, and perhaps of a 
good sword, if one of you be free to offer it. It is not 
the fortunes of a simple maid, such as my little Pela- 
gie seems to be, that are alone involved, and yet I am 
not at liberty to tell you what great issues are at stake. 
We will say, by way of illustration, it would be to the 
advantage of an Orleanist to get rid of all possible 
Bourbon claimants to the throne of France, would it 
not ? Merely by way of further illustration, suppose 
there were some young Orleanist, far removed from 
any pretensions to the throne, who by marrying a 
young Bourbon maid much closer to the throne, but, 
of course, barred from it by her sex, should prevent 
her marrying royalty and so having a son who might 
succeed to the throne. Do you follow me ? ’ 7 

We both bowed our comprehension, for we were too 
eager to interrupt him by a word. The doctor went 
on: 

“ And suppose by such a marriage he removed one 


1 GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 57 

more obstacle from the path of a powerful kinsman in 
his progress toward the throne. And if this young Or- 
leanist were penniless and the Bourbon maid rich in 
prospect, he would save his kinsman the necessity of 
providing for him. And if he were dissolute and un- 
principled, he would hesitate at no means to accom- 
plish his ends. And if he were handsome, after a fash- 
ion, and accomplished in all Parisian arts, there would 
be reasonable chance of his success with a young 
maiden but little versed in the wiles of the world. Al- 
though I have used this merely as an illustration, this 
is very much the situation that confronts Pelagie’s 
friends. You see, I have some reason to feel alarmed, 
and I fear I have no right to permit her to go to this 
picnic. Yet,” with a grimace, “ what can I? Where 
a wilful maiden will, a man is helpless. 

“ And now, messieurs, you see how fully I have 
trusted you, not only with my affairs, but the affairs 
of Prance. I am not asking for a pledge of secrecy, 
for I feel no such pledge is necessary. Pelagie 
and her interests and the interests of her house in 
France I believe to be as safe in your hands as in my 
own.” 

As the doctor uttered these last words he sprang to 
his feet, and betrayed the intensity of his feeling by 
the mist in his eyes, the tremor in his voice, and the 
dramatic clasping of his hands. 

By a simultaneous emotion of sympathy, both the 
captain and I found ourselves on our feet also. The 
captain extended his hand, and, like the straightfor- 
ward, simple-minded gentleman he is, said only: 


58 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST, LOUIS 


“Your trust is not misplaced, Dr. Saugrain; your 
secret is safe. ’ ’ 

I was almost too deeply moved for words; I could 
only murmur as I bowed low over the hilt of my 
sword : 

4 ‘ Safe as my honor ! ’ ’ 

I know not with what emotions my captain had lis- 
tened to this long recital. As for me, I had been in- 
tensely interested. Yet I could not tell why it should 
not please me to find that this scornful little lady was 
presumptive heiress to wealth and titles, probably 
even of royal rank, for so I could not but understand 
the doctor’s illustration. 

“Does Mademoiselle Pelagie know all this?” in- 
quired the captain. “Does she know her rank and 
prospects? Is it permitted to speak of them to her? ” 

“Oh, no, no, no!” uttered the doctor, rapidly, with 
vigorous protestations of head and hands. “Pelagie 
knows nothing but that almost longer ago than she 
can remember she lived in a beautiful house with 
many servants, and with a father and mother who 
idolized her, but who went away from her one day 
never to return. Of course she knows now why they 
never returned, but that is all. She has lived with us 
in America nearly ten years, and I think she has 
learned to love Madame Saugrain and me almost as if 
we were indeed her father and mother, and we could 
not love child of our own more tenderly. 

“And so you see, my dear young sir,” regarding 
me with affectionate concern, “what a weighty re- 
sponsibility I have put upon your young shoulders. 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 59 

[f the burden is too great for you, I absolve you from 
your offer as escort, and Pelagie shall stay at home 
whether she will or not. I think it would be far the 
better way. ’ ’ 

“Oh, no, no, sir!” I protested eagerly. “I am 
proud you think me worthy such a responsibility. I 
will never let her out of my sight for one moment, and 
I promise to bring her back to you in safety.” 

“Thank you,” said the doctor, gravely; “that is 
what I would wish. Do not let her out of your sight 
if it is possible. Even if she seems to be fretted by 
your espionage I hope you will bear with her temper, 
—which I know to be a royal one,— and persist in 
your watchfulness. I shall be deeply grateful to 
you.” 

By the time the day of the picnic arrived, I flattered 
myself I had made some slight progress in Mademoi- 
selle Pelagie ’s regard. Very slight, to be sure, yet I 
thought she did not treat me with quite the disdain 
she had shown at first. Indeed, I even thought I some- 
times detected that she was listening with interest 
w T hen Madame Saugrain or the good doctor was ques- 
tioning me about my life at home in Philadelphia. 

Twice a day at least we were brought together at 
the table, for the captain and I had taken up our abode 
at Dr. Saugrain ’s. It was not without much demur 
that we had, at last, accepted the doctor’s urgent in- 
vitations to do so. To be sure, there was no hostelry 
in the village, except the low tavern where the dis- 
reputable Indians and rough river-men congregated, 
and we would have been obliged to accept some of the 


60 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


many hospitable invitations extended us by the Chou- 
teaus, the Papins, the Cerres, indeed by nearly every 
leading citizen of St. Louis, all eagerly vying with 
one another for the privilege of entertaining General 
Clarke’s brother. I think the captain’s hesitancy 
arose from the feeling that he ought to accept Emile 
Yosti’s or Manuel Lisa’s hospitality, since his business 
was chiefly concerned with them ; but with me it was 
the feeling that it would be intolerable to dwell under 
the same roof with my Lady Disdain, and be subjected 
to countless little ignominies at her hands. Yet when 
the doctor presented it to us as a very great favor 
to him at this time, when he might need our assistance 
as well as our advice in protecting Mademoiselle Pela- 
gie, we could object no further, and I, at least, was as 
eager to stay as I had before been unwilling. To me it 
seemed the more reasonable that he might easily need 
what assistance our swords could give him, if there 
were really on foot a plan to capture mademoiselle, 
because the doctor’s house was set in a large garden, 
at the extreme borders of the village, next to the 
stockade and with no neighbor within hearing. 

The day of the picnic rose clear and bright, chang- 
ing soon to the purple haze and soft air of a day in 
late November. Breakfast was hardly over when the 
picnickers began to pass the house, some of them walk- 
ing in merry groups, some in little French carts 
drawn by oxen or small, hardy ponies, but many of 
them, I noted with a beating heart, on horseback car- 
rying double, the maiden on a pillion holding fast 
with her arm around her escort’s waist. Was it thus 


i GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 61 


my Lady Disdain expected to be carried to the picnic, 
I wondered, and could not tell for the life of me whe- 
ther I riost hoped it or dreaded it. 

But my hopes and fears were alike vain. I sat 
smoking on the shady gallery, and was beginning to 
wonder when my lady would see fit to start, for by 
now the procession had thinned out to almost none, 
only a straggling couple occasionally hurrying by as 
if they feared they were late and must hasten to be 
in time for the sport. I began to think it possible she 
had changed her mind and would stay at home rather 
than go with an undesired escort. 

I had risen early, and though I had made an un- 
usually careful toilet, calling Yorke to my aid to see 
that every lacer was fresh and securely tied, and my 
buckles shining, yet I had made much haste also, not 
knowing at what hour mademoiselle proposed starting, 
and fearing greatly to annoy her by being one mo- 
ment tardy. So here had I sat smoking on the shady 
gallery a good two hours awaiting my lady’s pleasure, 
and beginning inwardly to fume, for my temper was 
not such as to bear meekly even the caprices of a beau- 
tiful maiden— no, not though she might be also some 
great lady in disguise. 

But when I had for the tenth time started up to 
stride angrily up and down the gallery, I heard the 
creaking of wheels, and around the corner of the house 
came a little French charrette, its wooden wheels mak- 
ing a great noise, drawn by one ox and Narcisse walk- 
ing beside it, driving. I was filled with dismay, for to 
me it seemed not a mode of conveyance suited to the 


62 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


dignity of the son of one of the proudest families of 
Philadelphia, to say nothing of Mademoiselle Pelagie. 
Besides, I had had visions of the fine figure I was to 
cut before the St. Louis beaus and belles on my pran- 
cing and curveting Fatima, whose glossy coat was like 
satin this morning from the extra rubbing I had or- 
dered Yorke to give her. 

But as Narcisse passed me and pulled off his hat 
with an amiable grin, I saw a great hamper in the 
charrette, and from a spicy wdiiff borne to my nostrils 
by a passing breeze I knew he was conveying our din- 
ner to the picnic-grounds, and I was duly thankful 
that neither Fatima nor I was to be hampered ( ’t is 
a poor pun, and my father hath ever taught me ’t is 
the lowest form of wit) with clumsy packages dan- 
gling from saddle and arm. 

In a moment more, around the corner of the house 
again came a black, leading a small Indian horse 
gaily caparisoned, and fitted with a lady’s pillion* and 
immediately behind, Yorke, leading my own Fatima. 
I knew then we were about to start, and my heart be- 
gan once more its silly thumpings. Yet would I not 
move from my seat, where I had assumed an attitude 
of indifference, until I suddenly heard behind me a 
cool and haughty voice : 

“Are you not ready, sir? It is high time, I should 
think, we were on our way, or we will be too late for 
the dejeuner.” 

Now was I in wrath indeed, to be spoken to in tones 
of reproach when I had every reason to expect at least 
an excuse, if not an apology, for having been kept so 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 63 


long waiting. I rose to my feet in leisurely fashion 
and made mademoiselle a most elaborate bow, as I re- 
plied in a voice as cool and haughty as her own : 

“Had I been informed at what hour mademoiselle 
would require my presence, I should have been belted 
and hatted and not have detained your ladyship for 
even a moment, to say nothing of having wasted two 
good hours of my own time in idle waiting.” 

As I spoke I stooped to pick up my sword-belt from 
the floor beside my chair, and began slowly to buckle 
it on. My eyes were on my belt, but not so closely 
but that I could see a little smile hover around made- 
moiselle’s lips, and I thought she was not displeased 
to find I had a little spirit of my own and was not 
always to be cowed by her scornful airs. I was so 
elated by the discovery that I, foolishly, prolonged 
the buckling beyond all possible necessity, and made- 
moiselle’s good humor was quickly exhausted. She 
tapped her little foot impatiently for a moment and 
then spoke as icily as before : 

‘ ‘ Since monsieur finds difficulty with his belt, I will 
ask Yorke to put me on my horse and then send him 
to your assistance. ’ ’ 

All my foolish elation was gone in a moment, and, 
between my mortification and my impatient haste, I 
fumbled in earnest. I was in desperate haste ; for not 
for a moment did I intend to let Yorke put her upon 
her horse : yet so swiftly had she swept down the long 
gallery and the steps to the driveway a little distance 
off, and so slow had I been with my buckle, that I 
reached her side just in time to hear her say: 


64 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“Yorke, put me on my horse, and then go at once 
and buckle your master’s belt. We are like to be all 
day getting to Chouteau’s Pond.” 

4 4 Yes, missy,” said Yorke, and flinging Fatima’s 
reins to Narcisse, prepared to obey her, though he 
could only have comprehended by intuition, for not 
a word of her tongue did he understand. 

I was restored at once to my equanimity by her im- 
patient tones, and I spoke to Yorke with a calm au- 
thority he dared not disobey : 

“Take care of Fatima, Yorke ; I will attend to made- 
moiselle,” and without giving her time to object I 
coolly lifted her to her horse. She was only a feather’s 
weight, but I think she liked not that fashion of 
mounting, and was minded for a moment to kick and 
scream like an angry child. But she thought better 
of it, and though the quick flame sprang into her 
cheek, she bowed her thanks in stately fashion, and I 
springing on Fatima’s back and bidding Yorke to fol- 
low at once, we set forth at a round pace. 

Not a word did she speak as we galloped side by 
side down the driveway, through the gate, and along 
the short bit of road that extended to the stockade. 
When we had passed through, there was not much 
more than a rough foot-path, that began to descend 
very soon from the high bluffs, sometimes by a gentle 
incline, sometimes by a steep and rocky descent, to 
the valley of La Petite Riviere. 

The path was no longer wide enough for two horses, 
and we were compelled to ride in Indian fashion. Fa- 
tima was ahead and was picking her way daintily and 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 65 

surely, but slowly. The little Indian horse, being much 
more used to such rough paths, would have gone on 
more rapidly, and fretted at being kept back by Fa- 
tima. So, no doubt, did his rider, for presently, in her 
formal way, she said : 

“If monsieur will permit, I will take the lead. I 
think my pony knows the path better and can show 
you the way.” 

But I had been specially warned to keep ever in ad- 
vance, and it did not add to mademoiselle's good hu- 
mor that I was compelled to refuse her the pas. I was 
beginning to feel that my task was a thankless one, 
and the picnic on Chouteau's Pond did not look to me 
quite so alluring as it had looked a few days before. 
Perhaps my face betrayed my feeling; for when we 
reached the foot of the incline and our path broadened 
out as it turned to follow the windings of the little 
river toward the pond, mademoiselle rode up beside 
me, and with a very pretty air indeed, half arch, half 
shy, wholly sweet, she said : 

“I pray monsieur will not think me ungrateful. 
I do not forget that but for his courtesy I could not 
have gone to my fete.” 

Then she added roguishly : 

“But I will make amends. I will introduce you to 
many St. Louis belles, the fascinating Pelagie Chou- 
teau, Emilie Gratiot, who dances like a fairy, and Mar- 
guerite and Marie Papin, the beautiful sisters. And 
there are many more just as beautiful.” 

I bowed gravely : 

1 ‘ I thank you, mademoiselle. I have heard much of 

5 


66 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


the beauty of the St. Louis demoiselles, and have de- 
sired much to meet them. You remember it was 
largely for that inducement I consented to undertake 
the difficult task of looking after your ladyship.” 

Pelagie pouted. 

“Why do you persist in calling me ‘your lady- 
ship ’ ? I am only mademoiselle. ’ ’ 

“Indeed!” I said, with affected surprise: “your 
manner has led me to suppose you marquise at least, 
if not duehesse.” 

Mademoiselle reddened, but spoke very seriously 
and very sweetly 

“I am afraid I have very bad manners, and a very 
bad temper. But I intend to be good now, and to re- 
mind me I give you permission when I am haughty or 
disagreeable to call me comtesse.” 

The sycamores and cottonwoods that bordered our 
path had lost more than half their leaves, and the 
soft haze of the late November sun filtering through 
flecked mademoiselle with pale gold. It touched her 
dark hair and turned it to burnished bronze, it 
brought a faint rose to the warm white of her cheek, 
and made little golden lights dance in the shadows of 
her eyes uplifted to mine. The mysterious fragrance 
of late autumn, of dying leaves and bare brown earth, 
and ripening nuts and late grapes hanging on the 
vines, and luscious persimmons on the leafless trees, 
rose like incense to my nostrils and intoxicated me. I 
hardly knew how I answered as I looked deep into her 
shadowy eyes, and I was almost glad that, our way 
crossing the little river by a steep path leading down 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 67 

to a shallow ford, I was compelled once more to take 
the lead. 

Half-way across we stopped to let our horses dip 
their noses in the cool water dashing merrily over the 
stones. Fatima only played with it, swashing her 
muzzle well, and flinging the bright drops over made- 
moiselle J s horse, who drank steadily. The opposite 
bank was more heavily wooded, and I became aware, 
as I sat idly flecking the foam from Fatima's flanks 
with my riding-whip, that I had for some time been 
hearing a whippoorwill calling and its mate replying. 
The woods looked dense enough to be the haunts of 
the lonely birds, but, nevertheless, I felt uneasy and 
began to listen— for rarely, indeed, does one hear a 
whippoorwill in the daytime. I knew birds well, 
and I soon became convinced that these whippoorwills 
were like none I had ever heard. They were too de- 
liberate in their calls and replies, and the varying 
number of each sounded like a system of signals. I 
began to wish mademoiselle had not been so tardy in 
starting, that we might have had company on our 
way, and I strained my ears if I might hear anything 
of Yorke, who should be not far behind. 

But there were no signs of Yorke; and mademoi- 
selle's horse had finished drinking, and there was no 
excuse for our delaying longer. I would not alarm 
mademoiselle with my suspicions, yet I wanted my 
firearms ready to my hand. I drew my pistol from 
its holster and laid it across my saddle-bow, saying 
carelessly that if I caught a glimpse of that whippoor- 
will in the woods I should shoot it for my aunt in 


68 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

Paris, who was making a collection of American 
birds. 

Mademoiselle Pelagie accepted my explanation with- 
out comment, and I led the way up the steep bank op- 
posite. Once up, I saw, to my satisfaction, that the 
path was still wide enough for two. I put mademoi- 
selle on the side nearest La Petite Riviere, and I rode 
next the woods; and though mademoiselle had sud- 
denly grown talkative, and was full of a saucy French 
wit, I fear I must have seemed very stupid to her, for 
all the while I was trying to keep up my share of 
repartee and quip I was listening, listening. Made- 
moiselle noticed at last that I was somewhat distrait. 

“Why do you keep your eyes turned upon the 
woods, monsieur ? In France we are taught that it is 
polite to look at a lady when she speaks.’ ’ 

“Pardon, mademoiselle ,’ 5 I stammered. “I am 
looking for that whippoorwill. ’ ’ 

“Your apology is more than sufficient, monsieur,” 
in her haughtiest tones. “There will, no doubt, be no 
other opportunity so suitable for adding to your 
aunt’s collection.” 

I had kept my eyes fixed on the woods even while 
speaking to her, not daring to turn them away, but at 
her tone I turned quickly toward her. 

“Pardon, mademoiselle la comtesse,” I began 
saucily, but went on seriously. “Permit me, I beg, to 
seem rude, though it is farthest from my desire to ap- 
pear so. It is more than the whim of my aunt that is 
at stake. Some day I will explain to you.” 

Even as I spoke I was startled by a sharp crackle 
followed by a stealthy rustle, as if some one had inad- 


t GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 69 

vertently stepped upon a dry twig and had then glided 
quickly away. I turned at once to the woods, and 
could almost have sworn I caught a fleeting glimpse 
of a copper-colored hand and the flash of a rifle-barrel. 
But as I gazed longer I saw nothing but the dense 
foliage of the low scrub-oaks that grew under the tall 
forest trees, and I hoped I was mistaken. 

A level bit of road stretched ahead of us. 

“Will you race with me, mademoiselle, to yonder 

tree ? 9 y _ 

The quicker we got to Chouteau’s Pond the better, I 
thought, and the faster we left the whippoorwills 
behind the better also. 

“I will race yon and beat you,” she said gaily, 
“my little La Bette is fleet of foot. But what shall be 
the prize?” 

“If I win,” I said boldly, “the first dance to- 

day-” , i 

I thought a shadow of annoyance passed over her 
face, but it cleared and she answered slyly : 

“And if I win, I claim the first whippoorwill you 
shoot; the second may go to your aunt. 

* * Done !” I said grimly. “Are we off?” 

It was evident that fleet as La Bette might he, Fa* 
tima was far fleeter. But not for worlds would I have 
left mademoiselle behind; so, while seeming to urge 
Fatima forward, I was, in reality, giving her the con- 
stant little touch that meant a check. Still I was 
mindful of my prize, and when we were not more 
than twenty yards from the tree, and I thought we 
were safe, I gave Fatima the rein and passed the tree 
a full length ahead. 


70 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I felt a little more comfortable now, for I thought 
if I had really seen a redskin with a gun lurking 
among the bushes, we must have left him well behind, 
and we fell into a comfortable little jog-trot, side by 
side again. Suddenly I heard once more the ominous 
crackle of a dry twig, and turning quickly, I looked 
full into a pair of dark eyes peering through the 
bushes. I hesitated not a moment, but raising my pis- 
tol, leveled it straight at the eyes, and would have fired 
but that a voice called to me in good English : 

‘ ‘ Hold, monsieur ! Do not fire ! ’ ’ 

And from behind the clump of bushes sprang a 
more elaborately dressed man than any I had yet seen 
in St. Louis. In truth, I thought him too foppishly 
arrayed for the woods, for there were fine ruffles at 
wrist and knee, and beneath his leathern doublet 
peeped the edges of a satin waistcoat, canary-colored. 
His hair was long and curled and tied with a ribbon, 
but it was not powdered, and over his forehead it fell 
in short, black curls that made his skin look very white 
and pink ; indeed, I was not at all sure but the pink of 
his cheeks and the red of his lips were more of art’s 
cunning than nature’s mingling. A soft, dark mus- 
tache on his upper lip, carefully trained and curled, 
proved him a Parisian of the latest mode, and I at 
once felt an instinctive dislike and distrust of him. 
I had never seen him before, but I was not at all 
surprised when mademoiselle addressed him as Cheva- 
lier Le Moyne and paid me the compliment of present- 
ing him to me. 

There was just a little disapproval in mademoiselle’s 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 71 

manner, for the chevalier had certainly been caught 
spying, if nothing worse ; and he had the grace to be 
embarrassed, and hastened to make his apologies in 
voluble French, which he seemed to take for granted I 
did not understand. 

“I missed mademoiselle from the fete, and I saun- 
tered out to see if there were any signs of her ap- 
proach. Mademoiselle must know that it is no fete for 
me when the queen is away, and the day is triste in- 
deed that is not lighted by her eyes. I was not sure 
it was mademoiselle when I heard voices, and so I 
looked through the bushes to see before addressing 
her. ’ 9 

1 ‘You spoke just in time,” mademoiselle replied. 
“ Monsieur took you for a whippoorwill, and a mo- 
ment more,” with an arch glance at me, “he might 
have added you to his aunt’s collection.” 

I thought at first my lady must be heartless indeed 
to make a jest of a very narrow escape from death, 
but as I glanced at her, I saw little tongues of flame 
leaping in and out of her cheeks, and a great pulse 
beating in her throat, and I knew the light manner 
was only a mask. 

I watched the chevalier narrowly as she spoke of 
the whippoorwill, and I saw him look quickly at her 
with a startled glance, but her evident innocence re- 
assured him. I spoke to him in his own tongue, partly 
to show him I understood it very well and he must 
be careful what he said before me, and partly be- 
cause I was not sure he understood mine. Indeed, I 
had many times been thankful that my French was 


72 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


almost as natural to me as my English, for in this 
French- and Spanish-speaking town there was almost 
no one could speak my tongue. Once in a great while 
(but not often) mademoiselle attempted it, either to 
practise her English or out of compliment to my cap- * 
tain, who was not quite so fluent with his French ' 
as I. (And when she did, her pretty broken ac- 
cents made our rough language sweet as the song of 
birds.) 

“Monsieur was fortunate to speak so soon,” I 
said. “I am looking for whippoorwills, and I took 
you for one. A moment more would have been too 
late.” 

But as I spoke I looked straight into his eyes with 
a meaning he could not misunderstand. His glance 
fell, and a deep red slowly mounted from beneath 
the artificial pink of his cheeks and spread over his 
face. He recovered himself in a moment, however, 
and answered me gaily : 

“Thanks, monsieur, for a narrow escape. ’T is the 
luck of the Le Moynes. Perhaps you know the motto v 
of our house?— ‘By hairbreadth escapes we always 
win.’ ” 

And this time he looked straight into my eyes, and 
conveyed by his glance a haughty challenge. 

I bowed a mute acceptance of it ; and mademoiselle, 
conscious from our manner we were not particularly 
amiable toward each other, hastened to avert any 
threatening unpleasantness. 

“I think the chevalier will excuse us if we hasten 
on. We are already late, and I fear we will keep de- 
jeuner waiting.” 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 73 

The chevalier bowed low, with his hand on his 
heart, and stepped aside to allow us to pass. 

It was but a five minutes’ ride till we left the wood- 
land path and the merry company of the little river 
and stood on the shores of Chouteau’s Pond. I had 
not expected to find such a beautiful woodland lake, 
and at my exclamation of delighted surprise, made- 
moiselle looked pleased indeed. 

“We are proud of our pond, which Mr. Auguste 
Chouteau has made for us,” she said. “Is it not as 
beautiful as your Pennsylvania lakes?” 

“I have never seen a more beautiful !” I ejaculated 
fervently, and I spoke truly. 

We had drawn rein on a point of high land, and at 
our feet the waters of the little river, in foaming rap- 
ids and tumbling cascades, stretched up to the foot of 
a high dam, where the waters of the lake poured over 
in a silver flood. To the right, embowered in trees, 
were the vine-covered stone towers of Chouteau s 
mill, and beyond, gentle grassy slopes, with drooping 
trees dipping their branches in the water. To the 
left rose high banks with overarching foliage, and 
then for a mile or two the lake wound from one em- 
bowered cove to another, till it was lost in the hazy 
distance. Directly below us, it lay a glorious topaz in 
the soft November sun, for which the dark porphyry 
of oaks, the tawny gold of cottonwoods, and the em- 
erald of turf and darker green of cedars made a jew- 
eled setting richer and more harmonious than would 
have been the flaming scarlet and gold of our Eastern 
woods. On the bosom of the little lake a white sail 
was floating lazily, for there was but little breeze, and 


74 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


two or three canoes were darting swiftly from shore 
to shore, the dip of their paddles breaking the lake 
to flashing silver. 

There were no other signs of life, and now made- 
moiselle took the lead and we followed the right shore 
of the lake behind the stone mill, along the shady, 
grassy slopes, until, after several windings, we came 
out on a little cove where a silvery fountain bubbled 
up and flowed down in a tiny rivulet to the lake. 
Around the fountain was soft green turf, with natu- 
ral seats of rock, shaded by lofty trees, where the deep 
forest came down to the shores of the cove, and here 
we found our party of merry revelers. Horses, ponies, 
and oxen were all tethered deep in the forest, while 
young men and maidens were running to and fro, 
arranging tempting piles of broiled fowl, venison, and 
game pasties on the white cloth, spread on the green 
grass. A delicious odor of coffee came from a great 
caldron, hung over a stone fireplace on an impro- 
vised crane, and two young men were mixing, in a 
great bowl, a spicy compound of spring water, ratafia, 
sweet spices, and raspberry wine. 

They hailed the arrival of mademoiselle with de- 
light, and young Josef Papin came running up, and 
took hold of her horse's bridle-rein, and led her to the 
head of the table, where they had made a throne for 
the queen of the fete out of a flat rock, covered with 
bright-colored capotes, and wreathed with garlands of 
bright-leaved vines. 

He claimed it his due, as giver of the feast, to sit at 
her right, and awarded to me, as a courtesy due her 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 75 


escort, the seat on her left. In the merry scramble for 
places that followed (there was nothing rude in it: 
these French folk are gentle and courteous in their 
gayest frolics) the chevalier was forgotten. When he 
came in, late (somewhat flushed, as if he might have 
been running when no man was looking, but debonair 
and smiling, with many apologies), there was no place 
for him near mademoiselle, and I was not sorry. 
Neither, I confess, did he seem to be, for he devoted 
himself pointedly to Mademoiselle Chouteau, as fasci- 
nating a little coquette as mademoiselle had described 
her. 

Half-way through the meal the chevalier made an 
excuse for going for a cup of water to the spring, and, 
in passing behind mademoiselle, he stopped a moment 
to ask her, in a low tone, for the first dance. It was 
not so low but that I overheard, and I heard, too, the 
tone of regret with which she told him it was already 
promised. I might have thought the tone only a trib- 
ute to politeness had I not caught her glance, which 
said louder than any words, “I had much rather it 
were you/’ and I said to myself, “ Either mademoi- 
selle is a most dangerous coquette, or the chevalier has 
already succeeded in at least winning her interest/ ’ 
and for a moment it sprang to the tip of my hasty 
tongue to release her from her promise. But I shut 
my lips firmly before the words were out. 

‘ 1 Ce garcon-ca ! The second, then ? 9 9 

I turned away my head and did not willingly hear 
any more, but I could not quite help overhearing the 
chevalier once again, in a tone intended to be quite 


76 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


cutting, and for that reason, no doubt, more dis- 
tinct : 

‘ ‘ If mademoiselle 's dances are not taken for the en- 
tire afternoon, perhaps she will be so kind as to say 
which one she will graciously grant me V ' 

I did not hear her reply; but I heard his joyful re- 
sponse to it : 

“A thousand thanks, ma belle reine; au troisieme, 

doner 

I was in two minds through the rest of the meal : 
should I hold mademoiselle to her promise, which was, 
evidently, irksome to her, or should I free her from it ? 
I resolved, finally, that the dance was fairly mine and 
I would hold her to it. Yet when the music sounded 
and the line was forming I was a little late in reach- 
ing her side, for I had been following the chevalier's 
example and getting my dances promised ahead, and 
Mademoiselle Chouteau had been so full of her little 
French coquetries I had found it hard to get away in 
time to claim mademoiselle's hand. I found her tap- 
ping her little foot impatiently, and an ominous line 
between her dark eyes. I made my apologies humbly, 
but mademoiselle was coldly scornful. 

“Had I known monsieur would find it so irksome 
to keep his engagement I could have released him. 
There were others who would have appreciated the 
honor, since it is my duty to open the dance." 

“It is inexcusable," I murmured, “but it was una- 
voidable"; and without waiting for further recrimi- 
nations I led her to the head of the line. 

I had never seen the minuet danced with more grace 


I GO TO A PICNIC ON CHOUTEAU’S POND 77 


and spirit. These Frenchmen have winged feet, and 
though I knew my steps well and had not thought my- 
self particularly awkward, yet now it seemed to me 
impossible, with my great size, not to seem, to made- 
moiselle at least, a clumsy giant. It made me more con- 
scious of my awkwardness that I was leading the line 
with mademoiselle, reine de la fete, and a perfect 
fairy for grace, and that, opposite us, with Mademoi- 
selle Chouteau, was the chevalier, full of Parisian airs, 
which looked a little ridiculous to me, but were, no 
doubt, the admiration of all the maidens. 

And if anything could have made me more clumsy 
it was the accident that befell me in the sword-figure. 
It fell to my lot to cross swords with the chevalier, and 
I cannot be sure that he did it wilfully, yet so it 
seemed to me. By a twist of his wrist he loosened my 
sword from its grasp, and it fell clattering to the 
ground at the very feet of my lady. Had I been ex- 
pecting anything more than the usual crossing of 
points my grasp would have been firmer, and I really 
think I was not to blame. Yet I was covered with 
confusion, and as I stooped to pick it up, necessarily 
delaying the progress of my lady, who was leading her 
line of maidens under the arch of swords, I glanced at 
her face, expecting nothing less for my gaucherie than 
the mocking smile I had learned to dread. To my 
amazement, my glance was met with the sweetest of 
smiles, and it was the chevalier who winced this 
time. 

“I hope monsieur will pardon the chevalier’s awk- 
wardness, ’ ’ she said ; ‘ ‘ he is, no doubt, more at home 


78 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

in a Parisian ball-room than at a rustic dance on the 
turf.” 

After that, you may be sure, I carried myself 
proudly, and so elated was I by her unexpected sweet- 
ness that I lost all sense of awkwardness, and I began 
to hear murmurs of admiration that I knew were in- 
tended for my ears, and lent wings to my feet, also. 

“A handsome pair!” “What grace!” “He car- 
ries his head like a grand seigneur!” and Mademoi- 
selle Chouteau was wicked enough, as we crossed in the 
dance, to look up at me and whisper saucily : 

“I die with impatience, monsieur, for la troLsi- 
eme!” 


CHAPTER VI 


WHIPPOORWILLS 

“Is this that haughty, gallant, gay Lothario f ” 

I T was in the third dance, in the middle of an in- 
tricate figure (and Mademoiselle Chouteau was 
proving herself a most bewitching partner), that I 
suddenly discovered that neither mademoiselle nor the 
chevalier was dancing; nor could I see them any- 
where, though my glance shot rapidly into every leafy 
nook and corner. 

An unreasoning terror seized me, and with all my 
might I tried to think what I could do. Should I 
leave my partner and fly in pursuit, as I longed to do, 
the figure would be broken up, and should my fears 
prove unfounded I could never again hold up my head 
among the St. Louis maidens. Yet I thought if I 
waited until the dance was over there would be time 
for the worst to happen, and I had promised not to let 
mademoiselle out of my sight. Now did I curse my 
folly (with many of my big d- inventions) that, since 
I had come to the picnic solely to look after mademoi- 
selle, I had allowed myself to make any engagement 
with any other maiden, however bewitching. 

In my agony of indecision, though I was still going 
79 


80 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


through the figure in a dazed fashion, great drops of 
perspiration started out on my brow. At that mo- 
ment there came a pause in the dance, while the figure 
was changing, and above the babble of talk that broke 
forth I heard the distant call of a whippoorwill. It 
was enough. I bent low and whispered to my part- 
ner : 

Mademoiselle, do you think you could invent a 
pretext by which we could both be excused from the 
dance? Could you be taken suddenly ill?” 

Mademoiselle Chouteau looked up at me quickly; I 
think for a moment she thought I wanted to get her 
away for a cozy flirtation in a quiet little nook, such as 
some of the other young couples seemed to be enjoying. 
But when she saw my anxious face she spoke quickly, 
with the prompt resource I have ever noted in young 
maidens : 

Certainly, monsieur! In a moment you will see 
me grow quite pale, and then we will go and ask 
Gabriel Cerre and Marguerite Papin to take our 
places.” 

She was as good as her word : in a moment she really 
seemed to me to turn pale, and she said, quite dis- 
tinctly, so that those standing near could hear : 

“lam very tired, monsieur ; I will have to ask you 
to excuse me from dancing. Perhaps we can persuade 
another couple to take our places. ’ ’ 

I think Gabriel Cerre and Mademoiselle Papin were 
a little loath to give up their pleasant chat, but on 
Mademoiselle Chouteau’s representing that the dance 
would be broken up, and she was really not able to 


WHIPPOORWILLS 


81 


take another step, they very amiably consented to take 
our places. 

Then I had to explain to Mademoiselle Chouteau, 
very hurriedly, the reason for my strange request, and 
in doing so I was compelled to confide to her somewhat 
of my fears, and beg her to be silent if any one should 
notice that I too had disappeared. She proved a good 
ally, and, on my expressing my perplexity as to where 
to look, she suddenly remembered that she had seen 
mademoiselle and the chevalier, as the dance was be- 
ginning, enter the woodland path that led on around 
the lake to Rock Spring at its head. 

“A favorite resort for young people, and espe- 
cially,’ ’ she added slyly, “les amants.” 

The dance had been moving rapidly and it was not 
yet over; they could not be so far away but that I 
could overtake them, and I felt a little relieved. Yet 
I must see Mademoiselle Chouteau disposed of among 
her friends ; I could not leave her discourteously, and 
every second of delay fretted me greatly. When that 
was accomplished, I caught Yorke’s eye (for he had 
arrived very shortly after us, and having made him- 
self generally useful at the dejeuner, was now watch- 
ing the dancers with grinning delight) , and motioned 
to him to follow me. 

I slipped into the woodland path, and Yorke did not 
keep me waiting long. As rapidly as possible I told 
him my suspicions, and bade him slip into the woods 
where the horses were tethered and bring his own horse 
and Fatima by some roundabout way, so as to be un- 
seen, and follow me on the path to the head of the lake. 


82 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


It was a comfort to feel that Yorke would not be 
many minutes behind me, for impatient as I often was 
with his pranks and his eternal grin, I knew him to be 
a good fighter, and true as steel. Still more of a com- 
fort was it to know Fatima would be within calling of 
my whistle, for I knew not into what I was going, and 
if those dark forests overhanging the cliffs on the op- 
posite shore of the lake were as full of the treacher- 
ous savages as the frequent call of the whippoorwills 
had led me to think, I might find that the only road 
to safety for both mademoiselle and myself was on 
Fatima’s back. 

So it was with better courage (though I will not 
deny that my heart was beating fast) that I set off 
at a round pace on the woodland path toward the head 
of the lake. I had ever an eye for the beauties of 
nature, and an ear attuned to all its voices, yea, and a 
nostril for its sweet odors, and engrossed as I was 
(rushing on lest I might be too late, yet dreading every 
step that I fall into some ambush of whippoorwills), 
I still could not but note how softly the November sun 
fell through the half-bare branches, flecking the path 
with shine and shadow; how glowing cardinals and 
flaming orioles, not yet started south, flitted through 
the trees in rollicking sport ; and how the sweet odor 
of dying leaves mingled with the soft call of wood- 
thrushes. The cottonwoods had laid down a path of 
gold for me to walk upon, but, fortunately, it had 
rained the night before and the leaves were still damp 
and so did not rustle to my tread. 

I had hurried on at a breathless pace, following the 


WHIPPOORWILLS 


83 


path that in its turn followed the windings of the lake 
for nearly a mile, when suddenly I heard voices at 
no great distance ahead of me. I stopped for a mo- 
ment, my heart beating so fast I could scarce listen. 
Yes, it was a man's voice and a maiden's, speaking in 
low tones as if for each other's ears alone, and I did 
not doubt it was mademoiselle and the chevalier. 

Now it was most distasteful to me to think of play- 
ing eavesdropper, and I was of half a mind to stop 
where I was and wait until they had finished what 
they had to say and were ready to return. I would at 
least be near enough at hand to prevent a capture 
should it be attempted. But as I waited, mademoi- 
selle's voice was suddenly raised, and I heard her say 
in a tone of pain : 

4 ‘ Do not make me distrust my guardian ! I can be- 
lieve no wrong of him ! He has been the only father 
I have known." 

I caught nothing of the chevalier's reply but the two 
words 4 'interested motives"; but I thought, since it 
was evidently no tender interchange of sentiment to 
which I would have to listen, but the rascal was ma- 
ligning my good friend Dr. Saugrain, it was my duty 
to listen with all my ears. I crept forward softly, 
fearing lest a crackling twig or a dry leaf might betray 
my presence, and fearing, too, since I could not dis- 
cover whence the voices came, that I might come upon 
them unawares and so reveal myself. 

Which I came very near doing. Another step, and 
I would have stepped over the brink of a low bluff 
which encircled a cup-like depression. A cluster of 


84 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


tall oaks rose from the center of the little glen thus 
formed, sheltering a silvery fountain gushing from a 
great rock and then, in a bright rivulet, dancing mer- 
rily over moss and stones to the lake. 

This, then, was Rock Spring, and the source of 
Chouteau’s Pond! A sylvan retreat indeed for lov- 
ers, and I had heard it was much frequented by them. 
A fringe of crimson sumac-bushes screened the edge 
of the bluff and effectually screened me from two 
people just below me. I liked not to be spying, but 
I felt that duty and honor both, and my pledged word 
to the doctor, demanded that I keep mademoiselle in 
sight. So I cautiously leaned forward and looked. 

Mademoiselle was seated on a boulder with her face 
turned toward me and uplifted to the chevalier, who 
was standing with his back to me, looking down on 
her. Her dark eyes were wide and startled, full of 
surprise and pain ; I was not sure but there were tears 
in them. Her straight brows were drawn together in 
a deep furrow, and the scarlet lips, usually so like a 
Cupid’s bow, were set and stern. I wondered what the 
chevalier could be saying in that low voice of his to 
move her so deeply. As he finished, mademoiselle 
sprang to her feet, generous indignation in her flash- 
ing eyes and ringing tones. 

“I can never believe it ! Either I have no such pros- 
pects, or he has some good reason for not telling me 
yet. I will never doubt his truth and honesty ! ’ ’ 

Then I heard the chevalier’s reply, low and dis- 
tinct : 

“Mademoiselle, your friends ua France doubt both 


WHIPPOORWILLS 


85 


the friends of your father and mother. They have 
sent me here to find you and bring you back with me 
to your rich estates, to your rank and position, and 
to the friends who love you. But they know well Dr. 
Saugrain will never let go his hold on you, until he 
can get control of your property himself, and so they 
have instructed me to use all caution and secrecy. 

“In the woods yonder, on the other side of the lake, 
is a trusty escort to ride to Cape Girardeau, where a 
boat is waiting to take you to New Orleans. In New 
Orleans is a ship ready to sail the moment mademoi- 
selle puts her foot upon its deck, and in a little more 
than a month you will be in Paris, among friends who 
will receive you with outstretched arms, surrounded 
by every luxury, living the life of grande dame as you 
ought to live, among the great nobles where you right- 
fully belong, and not in this rude, rough country 
among Indians and boors. And mademoiselle will 
permit me to add, there is no great lady in France so 
fitted by nature to adorn her high station as she. She 
will have all Paris at her feet. Come with me now, 
mademoiselle! There is no time to be lost! Any 
moment we may be interrupted and it may be too 
late.” 

My eyes did not leave mademoiselle’s face through 
all this long speech, and I saw her expression slowly 
change. The generous indignation was still there, but 
I saw that the picture that he presented of the life 
that awaited her in Paris began to fascinate her. She 
spoke slowly and doubtfully : 

“I will tell Dr. and Madame Saugrain all you have 


86 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


told me, and if it is right, they will let me go with you. 
I will not doubt my friends. ’ ? 

The villain saw that he was gaining ground : 

‘ ‘ They are not your friends ! They are your bit- 
terest foes. They are keeping you from everything 
that will make your life grand and beautiful, with 
the hope of their own gain some day. They will never 
let you go! If home and Paris and friends and 
wealth and rank and power are to be won at all, it 
must be at once. Five minutes more may be too late. 
That boy [with infinite scorn] may have discovered 
your absence and come to seek you. ’ ’ 

Suddenly the chevalier dropped on one knee, his 
hand on his heart. I turned quickly away (for I would 
not listen to what I feared would be a declaration of 
love), and, as I turned, I saw Yorke coming up the 
path, leading the two horses, who were picking their 
way as cautiously as if they knew the occasion de- 
manded the utmost secrecy. I motioned to Yorke to 
leave the horses where they were ( I knew they were so 
trained they would stand perfectly still without 
tying) and to come silently to me. I felt that the mo- 
ment of rescue could not be far distant. 

He had crept cautiously up just as the chevalier 
ceased speaking. I was intent on noting the position 
of the horses and forming a plan of rescue, and so did 
not observe Yorke, or I might have prevented what 
followed. He had stolen up softly behind me, and, un- 
conscious that he was on the edge of a bluff, had 
stepped a step beyond me. Of course he went over at 
once, heels over head, turning a complete somersault, 


WHIPPOORWILLS 


87 


and alighted erect, astride the neck of the kneeling 
chevalier. 

At his terrified cry I turned quickly, just in time to 
see him alight ; and if it had been a time for laughing 
it would have been a funny sight indeed : the look 
of startled terror on mademoiselle’s face gradually 
changing in spite of herself to one of convulsive mer- 
riment; the chevalier, his nose ground in the dust, 
squirming helplessly and sputtering vigorously in 
French; and, lastly, the big black, the white balls 
of his eyes almost starting from his head in amaze- 
ment and fright, and a ceaseless torrent of ejacula- 
tions pouring through his white teeth ! 

“Oh! Oh, Lordy! Oh, my gracious! Oh, de good 
Lord! Oh, massy!” 

Yet he made no effort to rise, and I began to suspect 
he was enjoying the situation, for the more vigorously 
the Frenchman sputtered the louder the negro bel- 
lowed. 

It was time for me to interpose, but I wished to 
avoid the appearance of having been spying on them, 
with Yorke, from above, otherwise I could easily have 
leaped down the low bluff. Looking around hastily, I 
discovered, what I had not noted before, that the 
main path led around the foot of the bluff into the 
little glen from below. I had followed a branch of it in 
coming to the top of the bluff. I ran quickly down to 
the lower entrance of the glen, but there I stopped a 
moment to assume an air as of one leisurely strolling. 
I did not pretend to see the group until I was well into 
the glen where I could also be seen. Then I struck an 


88 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


attitude of intense surprise for mademoiselle’s benefit 
(who by this time had caught sight of me), and when 
I had sufficiently recovered from the surprise for ut- 
terance, I spoke to Yorke in tones of stern command: 

“What are you doing, sir, on monsieur’s back? 
Have you taken him for a horse ? Or a donkey ? Off, 
sir, this moment, and make your humble apologies 
to the chevalier. ’ ’ 

Yorke was not much afraid of my stern tone. Still 
yelling bloody murder, he contrived a most audacious 
wink with the eye next to me, but he tumbled off 
slowly, and then I hastened to help the chevalier to his 
feet. He was a sorry spectacle, and I saw mademoi- 
selle’s look of suppressed amusement change to pity 
and concern. Blood was gushing from his nose all 
over his fine clothes, and his face was so begrimed 
and gory it would have been impossible to guess it was 
the dapper Parisian. 

But he was in such a blind rage that for once he 
ignored his clothes. Stanching the blood as best he 
could with his flimsy lace handkerchief, he poured out 
a torrent of abuse in mingled French and English, on 
Yorke and on me, but principally on me. I tried to 
interpose a polite word of regret, but he would not 
listen to me. 

“You air a sneak, a cowaird, sir ! You spy on made- 
moiselle and me ! Cowair-r-r-d ! I will have the satisfac- 
tion ! Sacre Dieu ! You have no doubt told the negro 
to leap upon my back ! I will have r-r-r-evenge ! ’ ’ 

And as if reminded by that last word, he turned to 
mademoiselle and spoke in French : 


WHIPPOORWILLS 


89 


“Fly with me at once, mademoiselle ! You will not 
stay to be at the mercy of a sneaking spy. See ! I will 
call my red friends. Do not be afraid ! They will 
carry you off, but I will be with you, and we will find 
horses and fly. ’ ’ 

And without waiting for an answer he turned and 
imitated three times the call of a whippoorwill. 

I knew what that meant— that in a moment the 
Osages would be upon us ; and hardly had his first call 
left his lips before I too had turned and uttered the 
shrill whistle that always brought Fatima to my side. 

As I knew, the last whippoorwill call had not died 
away when from the woods on the opposite side of the 
lake, silently, swiftly stole first one dark figure and 
then another, until at least a dozen savages, armed and 
painted, were bearing down upon us with the fleetness 
of deer. In a moment more they would be upon us, 
and neither Yorke ’s life nor mine would be worth the 
asking, and, what was far harder to contemplate, 
mademoiselle would be captive in their hands. 

She stood for a moment petrified with horror at the 
sight of the swiftly advancing savages, and then she 
turned to me in an agony of entreaty. 

“Oh, fly, fly at once!” she said, “you and your 
black man, before it is too late. ’ ’ 

I turned to Yorke : 

“Go as mademoiselle bids you; get your horse and 

fly.” 

Yorke tried to remonstrate, but I would not let him 
open his lips. 

“No; you will only hinder me now. If worse comes 


90 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


to worst, you can at least bear the news. Go at once ! ’ ’ 
And without waiting for further orders, Yorke 
turned, scrambled up the face of the bluff, and was 
off. 

“But you will go, too !” she cried, as I turned again 
to her. 

“And leave you?” 

4 4 Oh, do not mind me ! They will not hurt me!” 
And then, as I stood perfectly still, with my pistols 
ready, but with no intention of leaving her to the 
tender mercies of the savages and the savage mercies 
of the chevalier, she grew desperate, grasping my arm 
and trying with her feeble strength to push me to- 
ward safety. 

“I implore you,” she entreated, “if you have any 
feeling of friendship for me, fly before it is too late ! ’ ’ 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “I stir not one step from 
this spot unless you go with me. ’ ’ 

“I will but hinder you,” she cried, “and prevent 
all possibility of escape. Oh, do not stay for me!” 

“Mademoiselle,” said the chevalier, who had been 
enjoying this scene, with no attempt at concealing his 
relish for it, “go with monsieur, since he desires it.” 

Even as he spoke, the first of the Osages darted into 
the glen ; the others were close at his heels ; but at the 
same moment from the entrance of the glen nearer to 
us came the thunder of hoofs, and Fatima was at my 
side, her eyes flashing, her hoofs pawing the earth, her 
nostrils snorting with rage : for well she guessed that 
painted savages meant danger to her master. 

I was on her back in a moment, and, stooping, lifted 
mademoiselle swiftly to the crupper in front of me. 


WHIPPOORWILLS 


91 


Holding her there with my left arm, I wheeled Fatima 
with the one word of command, “Go!” and turning 
my head as she flew over the rough earth, I leveled 
my pistol at the chevalier. 

“Do not stir, monsieur, at the peril of your life!” 

I called to him, and kept him covered as we flew. I 
knew the savages were running to try to head me off, 
but I paid no attention to them until, rounding a great 
boulder, the chevalier (his face ghastly with rage and i 
disappointed revenge, for so sudden had it all been he 
had had no time even to draw his pistol to prevent the 
rescue until too late) was out of my range, as we were 
out of his. Then, turning my pistol swiftly on the 
Osage in the lead, — none too soon, for his rifle was lev- 
eled at us,— I fired. The poor fellow fell forward 
with a wild yell that turned my heart sick ; yet none 
the less, the others rushing on with their wild whoops 
to avenge him, I drew my second pistol and fired once 
more. 

But I knew not with what result, for mademoiselle, 
with a convulsive shudder and a look of mortal woe, 
cried out: 

“You have killed the chevalier!” 

“No, mademoiselle,” I answered grimly; “I have 
killed the poor whippoorwill you asked me for”; and 
then had all I could do without paying any more atten- 
tion to the savages, for mademoiselle had fainted and 
lay like one dead on my arm, her white face upturned 
to mine, her long black lashes sweeping the marble 
cheeks, and the dark curls falling backward from the 
white brow and floating on the wind, as Fatima flashed 
along the woodland path like a swallow on the wing. 


CHAPTER VII 


I TWINE CHRISTMAS GREENS 

u Woman ? s at best a contradiction still.” 

Y ORKE had reached the picnic-ground just long 
enough ahead of us to create pandemonium. 
He had reported both mademoiselle and me as killed 
and scalped by this time, and a band of a hundred 
savages, with the chevalier at their head, on their way 
to the picnic. 

The massacre of 1780 was still fresh enough in the 
memory of St. Louis folk to make this seem no im- 
probable tale, and the utmost confusion ensued. Some 
of the young men, with Josef Papin and Gabriel Cerre 
at their head, were for going at once to our rescue ; but 
the maidens implored, and Yorke averred it was too 
late, and reported the savages in such numbers as 
would make such an undertaking only foolhardy. 
(And by this you must not judge Yorke a villain and 
a coward; he would have been the first to volunteer 
and the loudest to urge on the others, but he had heard 
Fatima’s hoofs behind him, and knew we were safe, 
and, rascal that he was, could not resist his practical 
joke nor his negro love of producing a great effect.) 
Into this wild pandemonium of women screaming 
92 


I TWINE CHRISTMAS GREENS 


93 


unintelligible cries to each other as they hastily got 
together their belongings and packed them into char- 
rettes and saddle-bags, amid sobbings and wailings, 
and men shouting hoarsely to mustang and pony as 
they struggled with bit and bridle, mademoiselle and 
I rode; and their joy at seeing us alive, and our hair 
still on our heads, knew no bounds. 

I told them the true state of the case— that there 
were not more than a dozen or twenty of the savages 
at the most, and I hardly thought the chevalier would 
bring them down upon us. Yet, knowing that he might 
be in a mood for risking everything to recapture made- 
moiselle, I recommended that the men form themselves 
into two bands to ride in the front and in the rear, 
with the maidens between the two, and to start at once. 
We could go no faster, of course, than the charrettes 
could go, and the savages could easily overtake us if 
they desired; but I did not believe they would dare, 
for our numbers were greater than theirs, and the 
young men were all well armed. 

Mademoiselle had recovered from her fainting, but 
was still white and weak. And because I did not be- 
lieve she was able to sit La Bette, I recommended that 
she ride in Josef Papin \s charrette with Mademoiselle 
Chouteau and let Josef ride her horse. We two, 
young Papin and I, brought up the rear; and I did 
not see mademoiselle again except once, for a moment, 
when we were crossing La Petite Riviere, and I rode 
up by her side to see that the charrette went steadily 
through the water. Her head was on Mademoiselle 
Chouteau’s shoulder, who was supporting her with her 


94 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


arm. Her eyes were closed, and Mademoiselle Chou- 
teau whispered to me, “She is asleep !” but at that she 
opened her eyes quickly and looked up at me. She 
tried to smile, but I think the terror of it all was still 
strongly with her. She said : 

‘ ‘ I have not thanked you, monsieur ; but I know I 
owe you my liberty, if not my life, and I am not un- 
grateful. ’ ’ 

It was very sweetly said, but there was a horrible 
fear at my heart that she would rather have been cap- 
tured by the redskins, and gone away with the Cheva- 
lier Le Moyne, than to have been rescued by me. 

Just at the stockade we met a party of horsemen. 
Dr. Saugrain and my captain were in the lead with 
Black Hawk, who had reported Red Jean with a band 
of Osages lurking in the woods, and they were on their 
way to clear them out, lest they molest the picnic or 
the village. Amid a babble of excitement, every one 
trying to talk at once, our tale was told. And as Dr. 
Saugrain and my captain thought it was best to go on 
and try to capture the chevalier and his band, and as 
our escort was no longer needed for the maidens, I 
turned my horse and rode back with them to find the 
chevalier. 

I confess it would have done me good to bring him 
in a captive, but I was doomed to disappointment. We 
scoured the woods, and the only traces we found of 
him and his band were the prints of horses ’ hoofs 
going south,— a dozen horses, I should think,— and, 
just where Rock Spring bubbles up in a silver foun- 
tain, a torn and bloody lace handkerchief. I gave the 


I TWINE CHRISTMAS GREENS 


95 


good doctor a full account of the conversation I had 
listened to, and he ground his teeth with rage at the 
chevalier's duplicity. He was much touched at Pela- 
gie's chivalrous defense of him; yet, as delicately as I 
could, I tried to tell him that at the very last I feared 
the chevalier had succeeded in insinuating some seeds 
of doubt and suspicion in mademoiselle's mind. The 
doctor and my captain both agreed that it was time 
to tell Pelagie the full truth of the matter. She 
should know all about herself and her expectations, 
and who were her friends and who her foes. 

I was curious to see what effect the revelation would 
have upon her; or it could hardly be called a revela- 
tion, since the chevalier had already revealed it— 
rather the confirmation of his tale. But in that, too, I 
was doomed to disappointment. She was ill for sev- 
eral days and confined to her room,— the effect of the 
excitement she had passed through, — and before she 
was well enough to be about again, my captain and I 
had set off, with Black Hawk as guide and Yorke as 
factotum, to make a visit to Daniel Boone at his home 
on the Missouri River. 

We found the grand old man as happy as a child in 
the beautiful home he had at last made for himself 
and his family at the very outposts of civilization. 
We were gone four weeks, exploring the woods and 
mountains and rolling prairies of the beautiful coun- 
try, and coming home on a great flatboat down the 
swiftly rolling Missouri, past Port Bellefontaine, 
where the Missouri empties into the Mississippi (where 
we were royally entertained by the Spanish comman- 


96 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


dant), and so at last by the Mississippi back to St. 
Louis. 

I found myself trembling with a mingling of fear- 
ful and pleasant anticipations as I rode up the steep 
bluff on Fatima’s back, and we took the Rue de 
l’Eglise to Dr. Saugrain’s house. 

It was the day before Christmas, and I had not re- 
membered it ; but as we passed the church in the rear 
of Auguste Chouteau’s place, through the open doors 
we could see young men and maidens winding 
long garlands of Christmas greens and festooning 
them over doors and windows, while shouts of merry 
laughter floated out to us. I was for drawing rein 
and going in to help with the trimming; but my cap- 
tain (who, I believe, was shy of the maidens) insisted 
we must first pay our respects to our host. 

The little doctor met us at the gate with a beaming 
face, and when Narcisse and Yorke had led away our 
horses we entered once more the long, low room we had 
first entered nearly two months before. The windows 
were no longer open, looking out into cool green fo- 
liage, with white muslin curtains stirring in the 
breeze, and there was no maiden in a white robe, with 
the blue ribbon of a guitar across her shoulders, sing- 
ing creole love-songs. Instead, crimson damask cur- 
tains were falling over the white ones, and a great fire 
of logs was blazing in one end of the room, looking 
cozy and cheery enough on this crisp December day. 

Yet, in spite of its coziness, I thought it had a dreary 
look. Leon was lying before the fire, and though he 
looked at me a little doubtfully, as he slowly rose and 


1 TWINE CHRISTMAS GREENS 


97 


shook himself, I felt a rush of friendliness toward 
him, and showed it so plainly, as I called him to me, 
that at last he capitulated, and we have ever since been 
the best of friends. 

Then Madame Saugrain came running in, flushed 
and rosy from the kitchen, where she had been super- 
intending the baking of Christmas tarts and croque- 
cignolles, and bringing with her appetizing whiffs of 
roasting and frying. My captain laughingly told her 
that the good smells made himTiungry. 

“You shall come and see,” she said; and led us into 
the .great kitchen, where, on tables as white as snow, 
were piled heaps of golden-brown croqueeignolles, cut 
in curious patterns, and the big black cook was drop- 
ing still more into the kettle of boiling fat, and bring- 
ing out puffy and wondrously shaped birds and beasts. 
Narcisse, on his knees on the hearth, was turning two 
great fowls suspended before the fire, from which 
oozed such rich and savory gravy as made one smack 
his lips. On another table a huge venison pasty and 
tarts and cakes of many kinds were temptingly ar- 
rayed, and madame’s pride in her housewifely prepa- 
rations for the Christmas feasting was pretty to see. 
She would have us taste, her croqueeignolles and little 
cakes, and had a glass of gooseberry wine brought out 
of the store-room for each of us, and we drank it 
standing in the kitchen, and helping ourselves from 
the pile of croqueeignolles. 

But kind and charming as was madame, and tooth- 
some as were her cakes, and much as her gooseberry 
wine tickled our palates, I was yet on nettles to be 
7 


98 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


gone and join the young people at the church. 
Whether madame guessed it or whether it was just 
one of her kindly thoughts, she said in her motherly 
way: 

4 'But, my son, you should be at the church. The 
maidens will be vexed with me if I keep you talking to 
an old woman, when they might be having your help 
with the wreaths. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ If you think they need me?” and I tried to look as 
if only a stern sense of duty could induce me to go. 

Madame Saugrain laughed, with the merry twinkle 
in her eye that made her as captivating as a young 
maiden. 

“Allons done!” she said. "Quel garcon!” And 
with my best bow to her and a salute to my captain 
and the good doctor, I whistled to Leon to accompany 
me and strode quickly down the road toward the little 
church. 

But as I neared it I slackened my pace, and but for 
very shame I would have turned and fled again to the 
shelter of madame ’s motherly smile. I had not seen 
Mademoiselle Pelagie since the day of the picnic, and 
I was much in doubt whether she regarded me as her 
rescuer to be esteemed with grateful and friendly feel- 
ing, or as the cause of the loss of a dear friend, perhaps 
a lover. I felt very sure I would be able to tell at our 
flrst meeting in which light I was held, and, screwing 
up all my courage, I made a bold dash for the church 
door. 

Scarcely had my shadow darkened the doorway 
when I was surrounded by an eager group, saluting 


I TWINE CHRISTMAS GREENS 


99 


me with every form of friendly welcome back to St. 
Louis ; but the face I looked for was not among them. 
Mademoiselle Chouteau and Mademoiselle Papin 
seized me, one by either arm, and led me to a great 
pile of greens, and would have set me at once to work 
in tying them to long ropes. But I begged them to 
permit me first to pay my respects to the rest of my 
friends; for over in a dark corner I had seen Pelagie 
at work, with two or three young men around her, 
supplying her with greens for her nimble fingers to 
weave into garlands, and she had not come with the 
others to greet me. I thought at least that little cour- 
tesy was due me, for, whether she liked or resented my 
rescuing her, I had risked much in the doing of it. 

I was filled with bitterness toward her, but could 
have no more kept away from her than the moth from 
the flame. My bitterness now gave me courage, and I 
sauntered up to her with what I flattered myself was 
quite as grand an air as the chevalier’s might have 
been. Hand on the hilt of my sword, hat doffed, with 
its plume sweeping the ground, I bowed low. 

“If mademoiselle has not forgotten an old acquain- 
tance, will she permit me respectfully to salute her?” 

She had been seated on a low seat with the side of 
her face toward me, and may or may not have been 
aware of my approach. As I spoke, she rose quickly 
and turned toward me, the rich blood rushing over her 
face and neck for a minute, and receding and leaving 
her almost as white as when I had held her in my 
arms and she had thought the chevalier killed. 

She did not speak, but she held out her hand, and I 


100 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

9 

bowed low over it, and barely touched it with my lips. 
The young men (among whom was of course Josef 
Papin) crowded around me with friendly greetings, 
and for a few minutes we talked fast, they asking and 
I answering many questions about Daniel Boone and 
our adventures in the far West. 

I did not look at mademoiselle as we talked, but— it 
is a way I have— I saw her all the time. I think it must 
be because I am so much taller than most people that 
I can see all that goes on around me (or, perhaps 
more truly, beneath me) without seeming to look. I 
saw mademoiselle regard me with a strange glance, as 
if she were looking at some one she did not know, and 
was trying to explain him to herself. Then she sat 
down and quietly went on with her work, her head 
bent, and not looking at me again. 

I talked on for a few minutes, and then turned to 
make my adieus to mademoiselle. She looked up at 
me with a friendly smile and I saw, what I had not 
noticed before, that she was paler and thinner than 
when I had seen her last, and there was a look in her 
dark eyes as of hidden trouble. 

‘ 4 Will you not stay and help us, monsieur ?” she 
said in that voice which, from the first time I had 
heard it, had always seemed to me the sweetest in the 
world. Of course it set my silly pulses to beating 
faster, but I answered steadily and with an air of cold 
courtesy : 

‘ ‘ I regret that I cannot accept mademoiselle ’s invi- 
tation ; I have promised my services elsewhere ’ * ; and 
with another low bow I turned on my heel and, hold- 


I TWINE CHRISTMAS GREENS 


101 


ing my head high, went back to weave garlands with 
Mademoiselle Chouteau and Marguerite Papin. 

And because I was so big and they were so petite, 
they delighted in ordering me around (and I delighted 
in obeying), and they made me mount to the highest 
beams to suspend garlands, and applauded me when 
I arranged them to suit their fancy, and laughed at 
me or scolded me when I was awkward and stupid, 
until my back ached and my heart grew light; for I 
forgot for a time that mademoiselle, for whom I had 
risked my life, had not even cared to give me a 
friendly welcome back to St. Louis. 

The last garland was fastened in its place, the last 
stray bit of evergreen and rubbish swept from the 
doors, the church garnished and beautiful to behold. 
There was the noisy bustle of preparing for departure 
and the calling back and forth : 

“Be sure you are at midnight mass, Gabriel .’ ’ 

“ Au revoir at midnight mass, Pelagie.” 

“I will see you at midnight mass, monsieur.” 

And for me there was a moment of embarrassment. 
Was it my duty to offer myself as escort to any of the 
maidens? For though the hour was early it was al- 
ready dark. Or, since I was going direct to made- 
moiselle’s house, would I be expected to accompany 
her? I glanced over to her corner; she had already 
left the church. I looked through the open doorway ; 
she was walking down the Rue de l’Eglise with Josef 
Papin. 

“Mademoiselle Chouteau,” I said, “may I have the 
pleasure of walking home with you?” 


102 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

But all the way up the Rue de l’Eglise and down 
the steep incline of the Rue Bonhomme, and up the 
Rue Royale to the great barred gate that led into the 
stone-walled inclosure of Pierre Chouteau, while 
Mademoiselle Chouteau, with her nimble tongue, was 
flitting from one bit of village gossip to another, like 
a butterfly among the flowers, I was saying bitterly to 
myself : 

“And she had even the discourtesy to walk away 
without waiting to see whether the guest of her house 
was going home or not.” 

It was a long mile and a half from Pierre Chou- 
teau's house to Dr. Saugrain's, and it was a frosty 
December evening. It was only five o'clock, but the 
stars were out, and through the leafless trees I could 
see lights twinkling from the houses as I passed. 
Paster and faster I walked, as my thoughts grew more 
and more bitter toward mademoiselle, and by the 
time I had reached the cheery living-room, with its 
blazing lightwood fire, I was in such a glow from 
exercise and indignation as made the fire all un- 
welcome. 

I had quite made up my mind, on my long walk, 
that mademoiselle should find me as cool as herself; 
and through the evening meal I scarce looked at her. 
But if I had fancied mademoiselle suffering from 
some secret trouble, I changed my mind at sup- 
per. She sat between my captain and her guardian, 
and was in such merry mood that she had my cap- 
tain alternately laughing uproariously at her wit, and 
making fine speeches about her beauty, in a fashion 


I TWINE CHRISTMAS GREENS 


103 


that quite amazed me, for I had ever considered him 
a sober-minded fellow, above all such light ways. 

Nor did she refrain from a slight stab at me when- 
ever it was possible to get it in. I took no more notice 
of these than I could help, yet I felt my cheeks, al- 
ready burning from my frosty walk, grow hotter and 
hotter, until the very tips of my ears were on fire ; and 
I felt it the unkindest cut of all when she said, 
with her pretty accent and air of polite condescen- 
sion to a very young boy : 

“T is a long walk from Mademoiselle Chouteau’s, 
monsieur, but it has given you une grande couleur. 
What would not our St. Louis belles give for such 
roses ! ” 

I turned toward her just long enough to say 
gravely, “I thank you, mademoiselle,” and then re- 
newed at once my conversation with madame. But I 
could see from the tail of my eye that she had the 
grace to blush also, and to be ashamed of her petty 
persecutions, for she left me to myself the remainder 
of the meal. 


CHAPTER VIII 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 

“Tender-handed stroke a nettle, 

And it stings you for your pains ; 

Grasp it like a man of mettle, 

And it soft as silk remains.” 

I N our room, making ready for midnight mass, 
which all the family, including guests, were ex- 
pected to attend, my captain told me what Dr. Sau- 
grain had said to him about mademoiselle. He had 
told her fully her history and expectations (save only 
her exact rank and title, which he had thought best 
still to withhold from her), and the plans of her 
friends for her future. He had also told her very 
plainly that he had suspected the chevalier of just 
such an attempt at her capture as he had made, and 
for that reason had been so unwilling that she should 
go to Chouteau’s Pond. 

Mademoiselle had listened, and had asked him many 
questions, and had at last said that she could not 
doubt the truth of her guardian, but she thought it 
possible the chevalier was honest also, and misjudged 
Dr. Saugrain because he did not know him. The 
doctor had tried to convince her of the chevalier’s du- 
plicity, and showed her the letter of warning from 
104 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 


105 


France concerning him ; but the doctor was not sure 
that mademoiselle was convinced, and he had deter- 
mined, as soon as safe convoy could be found, to send 
her to her friends in Paris. 

In the meantime mademoiselle did not seem happy, 
and the good doctor was much puzzled to know whe- 
ther it was, as he hoped, regret at leaving his wife 
and himself, who had been father and mother to her, 
or, as he feared, a secret regret for the chevalier, and 
a lurking doubt of the Saugrains. 

And now all my bitterness toward mademoiselle 
had suddenly vanished. I seemed to understand fully 
the state of mind the poor girl was in, and there was 
no room in my heart for anything but a great pity 
for her. The remembrance of her face as I had seen 
it when the chevalier was talking to her, the generous 
indignation changing to doubt, and then the gradual 
kindling of a desire for the life depicted to her by 
the chevalier (and, perhaps, a touch of a softer emo- 
tion for the chevalier himself), — it was like reading 
an open book, and I said to myself : 

“Mademoiselle is torn by conflicting emotions: her 
love for her friends here whom she is to leave, and 
longing for the life in Paris which may soon be hers, 
and, perhaps, love for the chevalier, whom she feels 
she ought \>o despise. What does it matter if she some- 
times vents her irritation with herself upon me, whom 
she regards as but a boy ? I shall not resent it ; but 
if I find a chance I will try to let her know I un- 
derstand. ’ 9 

But I had no chance on the way to mass. Madame 


106 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Saugrain seemed to take it for granted that Captain 
Clarke and the doctor would walk with mademoiselle, 
and I was her peculiar property ; and I suppose I had 
given her the right to think so by always pointedly 
devoting myself to her. 

It was a solemn service at that midnight hour : the 
bare little church made beautiful with our garlands 
of green, and the twinkle of many candles around the 
altar ; the heads bowed in prayer ; the subdued mur- 
mur of voices making the responses ; the swelling note 
of triumph in the Gregorian chant ; and then coming 
out under the quiet stars and exchanging greetings 
with friend and neighbor. 

And last of all the quiet walk home, and, to my sur- 
prise, I was walking by mademoiselle’s side. I was 
surprised, for it was not of my arranging, and it set 
my blood to leaping to think it was possibly of hers. I 
made up my mind that no word of mine should mar 
the friendliness of the act, and I plunged quickly into 
a lively discussion of the ball that was to take place at 
Madame Chouteau’s on Christmas evening. But she 
interrupted me almost in the beginning, and, as was 
her habit when she talked with me, she spoke in 
French. It was only rarely she tried her English, 
though, when she did, it was with such a witching 
grace I could have wished it oftener. 

“Monsieur,” she said, “I have been so unmaidenly 
as to inflict my company upon you for the walk home 
when you had not solicited it, but I had a reason for so 
doing. I hope,” as if a sudden thought had struck 
her, “I have not interfered with other plans. Had 
you desired to escort some one else home ? ’ ’ 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 


107 


4 ‘ Certainly not , 9 ’ I said coolly, for I was unaccount- 
ably irritated by the suggestion. “And I did not so- 
licit the honor of being your escort only because I had 
reason to suppose it would not be agreeable to you.” 

“It was for that I am here without an invitation,” 
she answered quickly. ‘ ‘ I have many times given you 
occasion to think me entirely without manners. I 
have often been very rude to you. I wish to ask your 
pardon for my silly speeches at the table, and for all 
my unamiability, and to assure you I have not forgot- 
ten your great services to me, and I am not ungrate- 
ful. It is because I have naturally a very bad temper ; 
and now I believe I am not quite well, I am so irritable 
of late.” 

Several times I had tried to interrupt her; I could 
not bear to have her humiliate herself to me (for I 
was sure it must be a humiliation to one of her haughty 
temper). But she would not listen to my interrup- 
tions; she went steadily on with a voice so low and 
sweet and sad it quite unmanned me. 

Yet because I thought her voice trembled, and in 
the moonlight (for the late moon was now well up in 
the sky) I was sure I saw something bright glistening 
on her long lashes, and because my heart was torn 
for her, and I was seized with a horrible fear that she 
might weep, and I would not know what to do— for all 
these reasons I spoke quickly and lightly : 

“Mademoiselle, you have the temper of an angel, 
and if sometimes you lose it, I fear it is because only 
an angel with wings could be patient with a blunder- 
ing giant like me.” 

“You are no blunderer, monsieur,” she said 


108 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


gravely; “and if you are a giant, you are one of the 
good kind who use their strength and their courage in 
rescuing distressed damsels. I hope they will not all 
requite you as badly as I have done. ’ ’ 

“Mademoiselle,”— I spoke as gravely as she had 
spoken,— “I hope you will not let the remembrance of 
any service I have been able to render you prove a 
burden to you. I would risk much more in your ser- 
vice, if the occasion offered, than I risked then, and 
find my delight in so doing. ’ ’ And then I added : “ I 
wish you would promise me that if you should ever 
need such service again— if you are ever in peril of 
any kind, and I am in reach— that you will call on 
me.” 

Mademoiselle hesitated a moment before she re- 
plied: 

“You are heaping coals of fire on my head, mon- 
sieur ; you are far kinder to me than I deserve, but— 
I promise.” . 

“Thank you, mademoiselle; you have given me my 
reward, and if you were ever unamiable to me, you 
have fully atoned. Sometimes I think, mademoiselle,” 
I went on, inwardly trembling but determined, “that 
you did not esteem it so great a service that I ren- 
dered you— that perhaps you had rather not have been 
rescued. Am I wrong ? ’ ’ 

I was looking down on her and watching her nar- 
rowly as I spoke. I could see, even by the uncertain 
light of the moon, that she went suddenly white, and 
there was a perceptible pause before she spoke. 

‘ ‘ I hardly think, monsieur, that you have any right 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 


109 


to ask me such a question, but I am going to answer 
your question by another.” And slowly the color 
crept back into her face, and grew brighter and 
brighter, but she went steadily on. “Did you over- 
hear what the Chevalier Le Moyne was saying to me 
in the glen?” 

It was my time to wince. Must I confess to eaves- 
dropping? It was hard enough to do that under any 
circumstances — hut she might think I had listened too 
to the chevalier’s wooing; it seemed to me I could not 
so outrage her sense of delicacy as to let her think that. 

I had been reared to revere the truth, but for once I 
thought it not wrong to chip a little from its sharp 
edge. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “I will confess to you. I 
missed you and the chevalier from the dance. I had 
been warned that the chevalier might attempt to carry 
you off, and I had given my word not to let you out 
of my sight. Of course I went at once in search of 
you, and because I believed the whippoorwills we had 
heard in the woods to be signal of savages, I bade 
Yorke follow me with the horses. I heard voices, and 
in following them came to the top of the bluff encir- 
cling the glen. I would scorn to he an eavesdropper 
under ordinary circumstances, but a chance word 
caught my ear, and when I found the chevalier was 
not pleading a lover’s cause, but maligning my friend 
Dr. Saugrain to the maiden he loves as his own 
daughter, I felt it my duty to listen. Your rejection 
with scorn of the chevalier’s base insinuation against 
Dr. Saugrain delighted my heart, hut when I found 


110 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


that he was continuing with devilish ingenuity to seek 
to undermine your faith in your guardian, I concluded 
it was time for me to interfere. I told Yorke to be 
ready with the horses, and myself went down to the 
entrance of the glen, intending to interrupt the cheva- 
lier, and use my pledge to your guardian as authority 
for requesting your return. Imagine my astonish- 
ment to find Yorke, whom I had left in charge of the 
horses, astride the chevalier’s neck! What followed 
you know, and now you know what I heard and why 
I listened. Was it wrong ? ’ 9 

Mademoiselle was silent for a minute. I think she 
was not quite sure that I had not heard more than I 
confessed to, but she was willing to hope I had not. 

“Monsieur,” she said, “you were no doubt justified 
in listening, if one can ever be justified in listening to 
what is not intended for his ears. But you have used 
some harsh expressions concerning the chevalier, and 
I think it is possible you wrong him, even as he 
wronged my guardian. I do not for one moment be- 
lieve that my guardian has had any but the best of 
motives in keeping from me all knowledge of my rank 
and wealth; but I might still be ignorant of it, and I 
know not for how much longer, if the chevalier had 
not revealed it to me. Dr. Saugrain corroborated all 
that he has said. He only refuses to believe that the 
chevalier was sent by my friends to take me back to 
Paris. He accuses him of being in a plot to get pos- 
session of my person and of my wealth. Yet that is 
exactly the accusation made by the chevalier against 
Dr. Saugrain. Dr. Saugrain admits that all the 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 


111 


chevalier said about my present rank and future 
prospects is true. Why should not the rest be true— 
that he had been sent by my friends to bring me back 
to Paris ? Can you not see that he does not necessarily 
seem to me so black as he does to you and my guar- 
dian ? And it seems a hard thing to me that he should 
be a refugee among savages, leaving a blackened repu- 
tation behind him (for there is no one in St. Louis 
who does not vilify him), when he was actuated by 
most chivalrous motives, however mistaken they 
might be; for he thought he was rescuing a wronged 
maiden from those who had unlawful possession of 
her, and restoring her to her friends. I cannot but 
feel shame and regret that I should have caused the 
chevalier so great a journey, at such cost of money 
and fatigue, in vain, and that he may be even now 
suffering all kinds of exposure from wild savages, if 
not in peril of his life.” 

Now here was the opportunity I had desired to as- 
sure her of my sympathy, and tell her that I under- 
stood the difficulties in which she was placed ; but my 
tongue clove to the. roof of my mouth. When I 
thought of that villain (for whatever mademoiselle 
might think, I never for a moment doubted his vil- 
lainy) my blood boiled, and, instead, I blurted out 
roughly : 

“Mademoiselle, ’t is incomprehensible to me how 
you can for one moment give the word of such a man 
as the chevalier, whom you have known so short a 
time, equal credence with the word of such a man as 
Dr. Saugrain, thorough Christian gentleman in every 


112 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


fiber of his being, and your lifelong friend and bene- 
factor, your more than father. ’ ’ 

But I had spoken beyond my right. Mademoiselle 
turned on me with cold fury : 

“Monsieur, I have not sought this interview that 
you should teach me my duty to my guardian, nor 
criticize my attitude toward the chevalier. I am sorry 
we have allowed the others to get so far ahead of us, 
but if we hasten we may overtake them and I will re- 
lieve you from further attendance.” Whereupon she 
started ahead at a round pace. 

“Mademoiselle!” I called to her, “I entreat you to 
listen to me for a moment.” 

Mademoiselle stopped and turned toward me, and 
we stood facing each other in the middle of the road, 
alone in the white moonlight, for the others were quite 
out of sight around a bend in the road, and there were 
no houses near. Below us lay the Mississippi, a white 
flood in the moonlight, and far across the river the 
twinkling lights of Cahokia, one of them, no doubt, in 
Mr. Gratiot ’s house, where I had first seen mademoi- 
selle. Her eyes were flashing scorn at me now, as they 
flashed at me when she knelt with her arms around the 
great shaggy brute, and, looking up in my face, called 
me “Bete!” There was no doubt about it, made- 
moiselle could be a little fury at times, and no 
doubt she would have liked to call me once more, 
“Bete!” 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “I am so unhappy as to be 
always offending you. From the moment when I 
made my descent of Mr. Gratiot ’s staircase on the 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 


113 


back of your dog, to the present moment, I seem to 
have been able to make myself only ridiculous or 
offensive to you ! I beg you to believe that it is a 
matter of the deepest regret to me that this should be 
so, and to believe that to offend you is ever farthest 
from my desire. I realize that I was over-zealous for 
Dr. Saugrain, whom I greatly admire and love, and 
that you certainly had never given me any right to 
take such interest in you and your affairs as I just 
now displayed. I beg you to believe that I shall never 
again offend in like manner, mademoiselle la com- 
tesse.” 

I saw her face slowly change from its expression of 
scorn to that same wondering look I had noticed in 
the church, as if she were regarding some one she did 
not know and was trying to understand. As I uttered 
the last words, “mademoiselle la comtesse,” another 
and a swift change came over her. Her eyes fell, her 
head drooped. Still standing there in the moonlight, 
she suddenly buried her face in her hands and sobs 
shook her slender figure. 

“Mademoiselle, mademoiselle!” I cried. “I beg, I 
implore, you to forgive me. I am, indeed, a brute!” 
And as she continued to sob drearily, I was beside my- 
self. What could I do? She looked so like a little 
child, and I was so big, to have hurt her seemed cruel 
and shameful. I was in a state of desperation. I 
begged her and implored her not to weep ; but it 
seemed to me she only sobbed the harder. What did 
one do, I wondered, with a weeping maiden? Had it 
only been a child I would have known, for I had ever 
8 


114 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


a way with children ; but before a weeping maiden I 
was helpless. 

And still mademoiselle sobbed on, her sobs coming 
faster and harder, until, in a paroxysm of grief (or I 
know not what), she flung herself upon a low bank 
beside the road, moaning and crying aloud. 

Instantly my courage returned to me. Mademoi- 
selle was acting like a child ; I should treat her as one. 

“Mademoiselle, ” I said firmly, “I cannot permit 
you to sit upon the cold ground. I am very, very sorry 
for you, but you must at once arise and dry your 
eyes and tell me what is the matter, so that I can help 
you.” 

Mademoiselle but wept the louder. There was no 
help for it ; at the risk of being rude I must stop her 
weeping and make her rise from the ground. 

“Mademoiselle!” I said sternly, “you will oblige 
me by rising at once from that cold ground or you 
will compel me to go for Madame Saugrain and de- 
liver you into her hands.” 

For a second, amazement at my tone of authority 
kept her silent, then followed a storm of sobs and 
tears more violent than before. 

“I am sorry, mademoiselle,” I said, in a tone pur- 
posely cool and cutting (though it was my own heart 
I stabbed with my coldness), “that you compel me to 
treat you comme enfant. I shall wait one minute, and 
if you do not rise from the ground in that time I shall 
call your friends.” Then I drew myself up tall and 
stiff, like a sentinel, turned my back on mademoiselle, 
and took out my watch to note the time by the moon- 
beams. 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 


115 


There was no answer, but the sobs grew less until 
there was only an occasional convulsive catching of 
the breath. Then came a moment of quiet. There 
were neither sobs nor moans. Then a small and plain- 
tive voice said gently : 

“Monsieur, I will be good now.” 

I turned quickly. Mademoiselle was starting to rise 
from the low bank; I grasped her hands and helped 
her to her feet and looked down upon her. Her 
face was flushed with weeping; her hood had fallen 
back and her dark curls were in wild disorder; she 
might have been a beautiful child who had been 
naughty but was now subdued. She adjusted her 
hood and her curls as best she could, and then walked 
quietly along beside me. We neither of us spoke, and 
we walked rapidly and in a few minutes overtook the 
others and came up to the house together, and into the 
big living-room, where fresh logs piled in the great 
chimney-place were blazing and crackling, and light- 
ing every cranny of the long room. 

Mademoiselle was paler than usual, but otherwise 
there were no signs of the tempest she had just been 
through, and I looked at her with wonder. Madame 
Saugrain, noticing her pallor, and thinking she was 
cold, put her down on the wooden settle in the chim- 
ney-place to warm by the glowing fire, and bustled 
about helping Narcisse to bring in plates of croque- 
cignolles and cups of hot mulled gooseberry wine, 
which was much to my satisfaction, for the frosty air 
and the lateness of the hour had put a keen edge 
on an appetite that was ever ready for trencher 
service. 


116 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Now the settle on which mademoiselle sat had a 
high back and was turned away from the rest of us, 
so that, as we engaged in helping Madame Saugrain, 
we might easily have forgotten the little figure hidden 
away upon it. Perhaps the others did, but I did not. 
My mind hovered around it all the time ; but I was di- 
vided between a desire to take her some cake and wine, 
which I was sure would do her good, and a fear of my 
reception if I did, and a baser fear that I might 
thereby lose my own toothsome cake and fragrant 
wine, which was at that moment making most potent 
appeals to my inner man by way of the nostrils. 
“For,” I said to myself, “I know the ways of maid- 
ens. They like not to see men eat. It seems in their 
minds a greater compliment to them if a man do but 
nibble and sip and seem to be careless of his victuals 
and drink, which I maintain is a great mistake, for a 
good trencherman is ever a good lover, and a man to be 
trusted in all the serious business of life.” 

To ease my conscience and my appetite at the same 
time, I disposed of a croquecignolle and my steaming 
cup of wine with such haste that the one stuck in my 
windpipe and liked to choke me, and the other burnt 
my mouth well and might as well have been boiling 
water for all the pleasure my palate got out of it. 
Then I pretended to suddenly remember mademoi- 
selle, and carried her a plate of cake and a cup of wine 
with fear and trembling. 

She refused them, as I thought she would, but 
looked up at me very sweetly and asked me very gently 
to sit down beside her for a moment, and I remember 


I GO TO MIDNIGHT MASS 


117 


thinking as I did so that I had been wise to secure my 
cake and wine first, else would I have gone hungry, 
since I could scarce have the face to eat if mademoi- 
selle would not eat with me. But I still thought it 
would do her good to have at least a little of the wine, 
and, remembering how well she had yielded to disci- 
pline when she found she must, I set the wine on the 
hearth where it would keep warm for further use, and 
then turned to hear what she had to say. 

“I only want to say to you, Monsieur, that I am 
very much ashamed of myself this evening, but I am 
very unhappy, and I have brooded upon my unhappi- 
ness until I have become nervous and irritable, and, as 
you saw to-night, incapable of self-control. Is that a 
sufficient excuse for behaving like a spoiled child ?” 

“ Mademoiselle / 9 I said, 4 4 it is far more than suffi- 
cient, but I am more distressed than I can tell you 
that you should be so unhappy. If you would but tell 
me the cause perhaps I could help you. Is it anything 
you can tell me ?” 

“Oh, no, no, no!” said Pelagie, hastily, and then 
seeing perhaps by my face that it hurt me that she 
should think it impossible I could help her, she added 
hesitatingly: “That is, I think not. Perhaps it might 
be possible. I will think about it to-night and to- 
morrow, and perhaps at Madame Chouteau’s dance, 
if I have an opportunity, I may tell you. I believe,” 
still more slowly, “if any one could help me, you 
could.” 

I am sure I thanked her more with my eyes than 
with my voice, but I know she understood, and then, 


118 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


thinking she had had more than enough of serious con- 
verse for one evening, I resumed my role of stern dis- 
ciplinarian and made her eat a little of the cake and 
drink most of the wine, pretending all the time that 
she was a naughty child to be sternly dealt with. And 
I could see that the warm wine and the foolish play 
were bringing back the color to her cheeks and the 
brightness to her eyes and the gay ring to her voice, 
which pleased me greatly. Then my captain called 
to me that it was high time to be saying good night to 
the ladies, or rather good morning, and I rose to go, 
but I turned first and leaned over the back of the tall 
settle : 

“Mademoiselle, at the picnic on Chouteau’s Pond I 
won the first dance with you, I think somewhat against 
your will. If I should ask you for the first dance to- 
morrow night, would you give it to me willingly?” 

“Willingly, Monsieur,” w T ith a glance into my eyes 
(which were very near her own) by far the sweetest 
I had yet had from hers. 


CHAPTER IX 


madame Chouteau’s ball 

“ The uncertain glory of an April day.” 

W E met at reveille the next morning at nine— 
the great Christmas feast when kinsfolk all 
gather at the house of the head of the family and 
make merry together. Then I saw for what all the 
mighty preparations of the day before were intended. 
The roasted fowl and venison pasty, smoking hot, 
were flanked by tarts and cakes and jellies and cor- 
dials beyond my power to inventory, for I had ever 
less of a talent for the description of such things than 
for making away with them. 

It was a goodly feast, and we lingered at table for 
over an hour, mingling with our enjoyment of Madame 
Saugrain’s good things such pleasant converse as 
Frenchmen excel in. Dr. Saugrain himself had always 
something wise and witty to say, and being a man of 
deep learning and much science, was often, also, most 
instructive. An hour, therefore, passed quickly 
enough, and I was glad to see that mademoiselle was 
looking more as she had looked before the picnic on 
Chouteau’s Pond than I had seen her since my return. 
But I had chance for little more than the good wishes 
119 


120 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


of the day with her, for the company was large and 
my seat, as usual, was near Madame Saugrain, at the 
other end of the table from hers. My thoughts had 
dwelt much upon her when I lay on my bed the night 
before, a long hour ere sleep visited my eyelids. I 
had lived over the events of the evening, and of the 
weeks that I had known her, and she had seemed to 
me not one, but many maidens. Haughty, meek, scorn- 
ful, merry, mocking, serious, sad, sweet — in how 
many moods had I not seen her, and in each in turn 
she had seemed to me the sweetest. I always forgot, 
when I was with her, that she was a great lady in 
France and destined soon to return to her home land 
and her rightful position. I never could think of 
her as anything but Dr. Saugrain ’s ward: wilful, 
sweet, and capricious, the belle of St. Louis, the toast 
of the young men and the idol of the young maidens. 
That as a rule she had treated me with scorn or indif- 
ference did not in the least detract from her charms 
for me, but the unwonted sweetness of the night 
before had quite gone to my head, and I was hence- 
forth her willing slave. 

From the breakfast-table we separated ; the captain 
and Dr. Saugrain going to the doctor’s laboratory, 
where he was making some wonderful experiments 
with phosphorus, by which one might at any moment 
obtain a light, without the aid of tinder, by means of 
little sticks of wood dipped in the phosphorus! *T is # 
not to be wondered at that many people think Dr. Sau- 
grain a dealer in black arts when he can accomplish 
such supernatural results by the aid of science ! 


MADAME CHOUTEAU’S BALL 


121 


As for me, I had an engagement with Josef Papin 
and Gabriel Cerre and some other young men to go 
duck-shooting on the Maramec, a good day’s tramp, 
and we did not expect to be back until nearly time for 
Madame Chouteau’s dance. I think the matrons 
and the maidens expected to spend the day in going 
to church and in making visits, which seemed to me 
a dull way to spend Christmas, but no doubt they 
liked it. 

It was a grand day for shooting, the air so clear and 
dry, just frosty enough to send the blood leaping 
through our bodies; and we came home with a great 
string of prairie-chicken and duck and partridge- 
enough to supply the village for a week. We were a 
little later than we had intended in getting home, 
and tired enough to go right to bed, but I, for one, 
would not have missed this my first opportunity to 
appear in grand costume du bal, to say nothing of the 
joys of the dance. 

There was a hot supper waiting for me, which 
rested me wonderfully; and then, with Yorke’s help, 
I had a quick bath and was into my ball dress in a 
shorter time than I had dared to hope. Yorke had 
laid out my dress for me and looked to the lace ruf- 
fles and lacers, so that I had only to jump into it and 
let him tie me up, and I was ready. 

I was glad that I had such a becoming costume 
with me, for, without being unduly vain, I knew 
that the rich plum-colored coat and breeches and the 
lilac satin waistcoat with fine lace frills and a touch 
of gold here and there were a good offset to my yel- 


122 


THE HOSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


low hair and rosy cheeks, which, much as I despised 
them at times, I was yet at other times well satisfied to 
endure. I liked, too, the looks of my leg in a fine white 
silk stocking and low pumps with shoe- and knee- 
buckles of brilliants, and was not above being proud 
of a well-turned calf and ankle. 

Madame and mademoiselle had gone on ahead in 
a charrette, as better suited to their costumes du ial 
than horseback-riding, and Dr. Saugrain and Captain 
Clarke had ridden by their side, leaving me to finish 
dressing and hurry after them as soon as I could. 

A mad haste seized me before I reached Madame 
Chouteau’s lest the first dance should be over and I 
lose my promised honor. I reflected, too, that made- 
moiselle would think me always tardy in keeping my 
engagements with her, and the thought lent spurs to 
my movements. I entered the great ball-room in 
breathless haste. The walnut was waxed to the last 
perfection of slipperiness, and not taking heed to 
my steps, my feet slipped up. But I caught myself 
from falling, though not without as many gyrations 
of long arms and long legs as a Dutch windmill might 
accomplish on a windy day. 

My remarkable entry was greeted with a shout of 
laughter by the young men and maidens, who by this 
time had come to know me well. I did not mind that,' 
but I looked hastily toward Mademoiselle Pelagie, and 
there, between the straight black brows, was the omi- 
nous little frown I had learned to dread. What 
availed my beautiful plum-colored velvets and laven- 
der satin, lace, and buckles, if I only succeeded in 


MADAME CHOUTEAU’S BALL 123 

being an awkward hobbledehoy ? I must retrieve my- 
self ! 

I drew myself up in my grandest manner and 
walked up to Madame Chouteau, sitting in state in a 
great arm-chair near the chimney-piece. With my 
courtliest bow, in my best French, I made my com- 
pliments to her as if I had been accustomed to enter- 
ing rooms in no other fashion. Then I made the cir- 
cuit of the room, talking for a minute or two to each 
of my acquaintances, lingering longest by Mademoi- 
selle Chouteau, whose eyes were dancing with mirth, 
and so round the circle, head thrown back (but being 
careful of my steps), until I came to mademoiselle. 
There I stopped, with another low bow. Looking down 
on her, I was glad to see the frown was no longer there, 
but a look of something far pleasanter, almost like 
admiration, had taken its place. 

Of course she was surrounded by young men— that 
did not displease me : I liked to see her admired. She 
was wearing the same gown she had worn at Mr. 
Gratiot’s the first time I saw her, and I said to my- 
self: “ I know not w T hat her rank in France may be, 
— comtesse, marquise, or duchesse,— but I know she 
looks every inch la reine.” I think my pride in her 
lent stateliness to my steps as I led her out in the 
dance. I know that for her sake I wished to look as 
much le roi as it was in me to look. 

But there was no chance during the minuet for 
mademoiselle’s promised confidence, and as the even- 
ing went on I began to think there would be none at 
all. There had been the old folks’ minuet, when Dr. 


124 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Saugrain led out Madame Chouteau on the floor, and 
his plump little calves, silk-robed, had twinkled be- 
side her stately steps in wondrous fashion. And then 
had come supper,— a bounteous feast of delicate cakes 
and sweetmeats and rich salads and cold fowl, with 
gooseberry wine and a sweet punch brewed from New 
Orleans ratafia,— and I feared that would put an end 
to the festivities, and still there had been no chance. 

But ? t is a wonderful thing on what a small matter 
great matters will sometimes turn ! Though there may 
be those who would think it no great matter that I 
should find myself riding home in the moonlight with 
mademoiselle on a pillion behind me, and Fatima 
going at so slow a pace as put her in a constant fret 
of wonder as to what could be the reason that her mas- 
ter kept her down so, and mademoiselle telling me her 
story in a low tone (for being so near my ear she did 
not have to raise her voice) , and sometimes trembling 
so much that the little arm which was pretending to 
circle my great waist to hold on by (but which only 
reached by uttermost stretch a quarter-way around) 
would almost lose its grip. 

It seemed a great matter to me, and it happened in 
this wise: I had barely spoken to mademoiselle since 
our dance, when just as I was getting a glass of goose- 
berry wine and a croquecignolle for Mademoiselle 
Chouteau (she said she had no stomach for salads and 
meats at a dance) mademoiselle came up to me, in- 
quiring most anxiously had I seen her capote. ’T was 
of heavy silk, and lined with the skins of beavers, and 
would have been very costly in Philadelphia, and 


MADAME CHOUTEAU’S BALL 125 

handsome enough for our greatest dames. I had not 
seen it, but offered to go at once in search of it as soon 
as I had carried the wine and croquecignolle to Made- 
moiselle Chouteau. 

M e hunted together in all the most impossible 
places, and mademoiselle growing every moment more 
anxious, because she was keeping madame and Dr. 
Saugrain waiting. They were tired and longing to 
get home, and I said, half in jest : 

“Had I a pillion, Mademoiselle, we would tell ma- 
dame not to wait, and when we had found your capote 
I could bring you home with me on Fatima.” 

But mademoiselle answered quickly : 

“Would you be so good, Monsieur? I doubt not 
Madame Chouteau would lend us a pillion, and it 
would greatly relieve my anxiety in keeping madame 
waiting.” 

I. hardly knew whether I felt more joy or conster- 
nation, but mademoiselle gave me no time to decide 
which, but hurried me with her to persuade her guar- 
dians not to wait. I thought the arrangement did not 
altogether please the doctor, and he demurred greatly; 
but his good wife, who never differed with mademoi- 
selle (whether through being over-fond or a little in 
awe, I am not sure), persuaded him that it was all 
right and quite the best way. 

And five minutes after the charrette, with my cap- 
tain and the doctor accompanying it, drove out of 
Madame Chouteau’s gate, the capote was found, 
mademoiselle herself suddenly remembering where she 
had laid it. 


126 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I have never felt quite sure that mademoiselle had 
not known all the time where it was. But I admired so 
much the cleverness that could contrive to accomplish 
her end (for myself, I could never plan or scheme, 
though quick enough to act if occasion presented) that 
I forgave the little deceit, if there was any— maid- 
ens not being like men, who must be true and straight- 
forward in even the smallest matters, lest their honor 
be attainted. 

But when I had mounted Fatima and lifted made- 
moiselle to her pillion, and felt her little arm steal 
round my great waist (as it needs must, to keep her 
from falling), my stupid heart began to beat so fast 
and to thump so hard against my waistcoat I feared 
the buttons would give way, and was greatly shamed 
lest mademoiselle should feel it thumping and guess 
the cause. Yet presently Fatima, not being accustomed 
to petticoats falling over her flanks, pranced on two 
feet in such a fashion as to cause mademoiselle to 
clutch me convulsively with both arms, whereupon I 
found myself suddenly calm and master of the situa- 
tion. It was the work of a minute or two to re- 
duce Fatima to order and make her understand 
that petticoats and a pillion were entirely proper. 
That being accomplished, and Fatima made to under- 
stand also that she was to go at her slowest pace, I 
was ready to hear mademoiselle’s story, which finally 
she began : 

“ Monsieur, I feel that I must take advantage of 
this opportunity so providentially offered me. I 
had not thought to confide in any one, but I am in 


MADAME CHOUTEAU’S BALL 


127 


sore need of advice, and I know not where else to 
turn.” 

“I know not, Mademoiselle,” I answered, “whether 
I am good at giving advice. I had rather you would 
ask me to do for you some perilous and arduous ser- 
vice. But if it is advice you need most, then such as 
I can I will give you truly and faithfully.” 

“I thank you, Monsieur”; and then mademoiselle 
was silent for so long a time that I half turned in my 
saddle to look at her. She looked up at me with a 
pitiful little smile. 

“Have patience, Monsieur— I will soon find my 
courage; but I have need to trust you greatly, for I 
am trusting you with the safety, perhaps the life, of a 
friend. You will not let any harm come to him 
through my betrayal ? ’ 9 

“I promise, Mademoiselle,” I said, “to do nothing 
you will not approve. But there should never be any 
question of a betrayal. If a trust has been given and 
received, then it is sacred, but it is not betrayal if it 
has been forced upon one without his consent. ’ ’ 

I said this because I began to have a glimmering of 
the truth, and I did not want mademoiselle to violate 
her conscience. No good can ever come from that, I 
have found, and much as I wanted to hear what she 
had to tell me, I could not listen comfortably if I 
thought she were really betraying a trust. I was still 
turned in my saddle, watching her face, and I saw it 
lighten at once, and something like a great sigh of re- 
lief seemed to come from the depths of her breast. 

“I see, Monsieur,” she said, “you men understand 


128 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


right and wrong better than we maidens. It has trou- 
bled me greatly that I should prove unfaithful to a 
trust, and yet I saw no other way. And now, for fear 
my courage will ooze out, I must tell you quickly. 

‘ ‘ Two weeks ago I received a letter from the Cheva- 
lier Le Moyne, a week ago I received a second, and 
yesterday I received a third. The purport of all these 
letters is the same. I have returned no answer to any 
of them, though each has begged for an answer and 
given me full instructions as to how to send it. 

“The chevalier has gone no farther south than Cape 
Girardeau. He is waiting near there, in an Osage 
camp, to seize an opportunity to rescue me, he says, 
and restore me to my people. If I had replied to 
either of these letters, professing my willingness to 
go with him, then I should have received a note of in- 
structions as to where to be on a certain day and at a 
certain hour. But I have replied to none, and the last 
letter has grown desperate. In it he says if he does 
not hear from me he shall return to St. Louis on the 
evening of the Jour des Rois and be present at the 
dance, which is by custom a masked dance, and will 
then find means to carry me off. If I am not willing 
to go with him, then I must send him a letter before 
the Jour de l’An, telling him so finally, when he will 
return to New Orleans and leave me to my fate. Now, 
Monsieur, it will seem to you an easy matter that I 
should write him, finally, that I will not go with him. 
But a woman’s heart is a strange thing. I want to 
go with him, with all my heart, and yet I shudder at 
the very thought of going with him. When I let my 


MADAME CHOUTEAU’S BALL 129 

thoughts dwell on the glories that await me in Paris, 
wealth and power and luxurious living, and the so- 
ciety of the great and the noble, such as the chevalier 
has described it, I feel as if I must go, and all this life 
which has been so sweet to me here on the very borders 
of civilization grows utterly distasteful. Yes, even the 
friends that have been so dear to me begin to seem 
rude and boorish, as the chevalier called them. Some- 
times, in some of my wayward moods, the very perils 
of the journey attract me with a strange fascination. 
The ride through the forest with savages for guards ; 
the long journey in an open boat on the bosom of the 
great Father of Waters ; and at last the perilous voy- 
age by sea, all draw me strangely. At such times the 
chevalier seems to me an angel of light, and my only 
hope of escape from my narrow confines to a broad 
and beautiful life. But there are times when it all 
seems very different : when the thought of leaving my 
two dear guardians is unbearable, and the life I have 
known and loved from childhood, among sweet, true 
friends, the only life I desire. Ah, Monsieur, I am so 
torn by these conflicting states of mind that what won- 
der my guardians think me changed ! They believe 
the chevalier’s tales have spoiled me for my life in 
St. Louis, and that I would gladly leave them. When 
I see them sad over what they believe to be my heart- 
lessness my own heart is like to break, but I say no- 
thing, and they believe me to be entirely ungrateful 
and unfeeling. 

‘ ‘ So you can see how unhappy I have been and am, 
and how sometimes I am tempted to break away from 

9 


130 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST* LOUIS 


it all and fly with the chevalier to new scenes, whether 
they bring joy or sorrow/ ’ 

Mademoiselle did not tell me all this without much 
hesitation, sometimes stopping entirely until she could 
find courage to go on again, and, as I said before, often 
trembling so much that the little arm about my great 
waist nearly lost its grip. I did not interrupt her 
once, but waited, even after she had finished, for fear 
she might have more to say. And presently she added : 

“If I do not answer the chevalier’s letter he will be 
here on the Jour des Rois, and it is more than likely 
he will lose his life in the attempt to carry me off, 
even if I were willing to go with him.” 

“Mademoiselle,” I said slowly, “it is a hard thing 
you have asked me, and I feel sure that whatever I 
may say I will make you angry, as I did last night. 
Of course you know that what I would most like 
would be that you should let the chevalier come on the 
Jour des Rois, and we would capture him, and there 
would be an end to all this trouble. But you know, 
too, that since you have trusted me with his secret I 
would feel in duty bound to save him and get him 
safely outside the stockade again, even, if need were, 
at the risk of my own life. The thing, therefore, that I 
wish you would do, and that seems to me the only 
thing to do, is to write him at once, telling him you 
will never go with him, and bidding him return at 
once to France since his task is a hopeless one. ’ ’ 

“And cut myself off from seeing France and recov- 
ering my possessions ! ’ ’ 

“ ’T is not cutting yourself off.” (I spoke a little 


MADAME CHOUTEAU’S BALL 


131 


sternly, for I was beginning to feel irritated that she 
could not see the utter folly of thinking for a moment 
of going with the chevalier.) “ Your guardian is 
only waiting for two things, and as soon as they are 
accomplished he will send you to Paris. He is await- 
ing letters from your friends to say the time is ripe for 
your return, and they are ready to receive you, and 
he is waiting to find a proper person in whose care he 
can place you to make the voyage.” 

“ Then here is the time and the opportunity,’ ’ said 
mademoiselle, eagerly : ‘ ‘ my friends have sent the 
chevalier for me, and he is waiting to conduct me 
there . 9 9 

I could have shaken her, for a minute, her stupidity 
seemed so vast to me. Then I remembered she was 
really only a child, and that there are many things 
maidens do not understand so well as men. So I tried 
to speak gently, but so plainly that once for all she 
might understand. 

“ Mademoiselle,” I said, “ do you not see that the 
very fact that the chevalier is trying to induce you to 
go to France alone with him is proof either of his vil- 
lainy or of his colossal stupidity? Were he the angel 
of light he has sometimes seemed to you, and should 
he carry you safely to France and deliver you into 
the hands of your friends, yet who, in gay and skepti- 
cal Paris, would not be willing to believe the worst 
of both of you? The society that he has painted to 
you as ready to fall at your feet would be only ready 
to spurn you. Forgive me, Mademoiselle, for speak- 
ing thus plainly, but there is no man in the world who 


132 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

would not believe that the very 

lier's trying to persuade you to go with him to France 

proves him a villain of the deepest dye. 

Mademoiselle did not answer; bnt her arms slipped 
from my waist, and presently I felt her little head 
resting on my broad back, and sobs were shaking her 
little figure. I did not dare stir, for fear of distu ^ 
ing her, but it was very uncomfortable to sit so rigidly 
erect, not daring to move, because a beautiful littie 
black and curly head was resting a little above ,t 
small of one’s back, while tempests of tears wer 
drenching one’s military cloak, and the shaking from 
the sobs was making queer little shivers run up 

down one’s backbone. n 

Now this was the second time my brutality h 
brought mademoiselle to tears. This time I though 
it was good for her, and was of a mind to let her weep 
it out though all the time longing to turn around am 
take her it^my arms and let her weep upou my breast 

But^presently ’i “aware of heroic efforts to stifle 
thf Is Id stay the tears, and then I heard a most 

— *■» 1 

Now I had brought Fatima to a standstill, f 

r Vnlet her go even at a slow walk when made- 
m “sefle had no arm to hold on by, and her head hoh^ 
bjn ct at every step of Fatima’s into the ticklish par 
of my back. And by chance we had stoppe wliem 
the Rue Bonhomme climbs down the bluff to t 
river and onr boats lay moored at its foot. Suddenly 


MADAME CHOUTEAU’S BALL 


133 


an answer to her question flashed into my head. It 
seemed to me a perfect solution of all difficulties, but 
in the nature of the case I could say nothing to made- 
moiselle until I had consulted Dr. Saugrain and my 
captain. 

One thing I could say, however, and I reiterated 
what I had said before : 

“ One thing you can do at once, mademoiselle: 
write to the chevalier so firm and positive a refusal 
that he will never trouble you again, and then go and 
tell 3four guardian all about it. He deserves this con- 
fidence from you, and I think you will never be very 
happy until you have made him feel that there is no 
change in your grateful affection to him.” 

There was another moment of silence, and then, in 
the meekest of tones : 

“ I will do all you tell me, monsieur.” 

I could not believe it was the same haughty made- 
moiselle who had so scorned “ce garcon-ca.” But 
I was not going to show her the elation I could not 
help feeling in her change of attitude ; and being also 
most sorry for her, and everything settled as far as 
it could be about the chevalier, I thought it time that 
she should be diverted from her unhappy thoughts, 
and so I bade her look down on the great river, now 
rolling, a silver flood under the moon, straight to Cape 
Girardeau, where the chevalier was lingering, and past 
fort and forest on to the rich city of New Orleans. 
For a moment the old longing returned to be one 
of a great army borne on its swift waters to capture 
the haughty city that held the gateway to the sea. I 


134 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


thought it no harm to tell mademoiselle what my 
dreams had been, and we both laughed merrily at the 
audacity of them. 

But the night was passing, and gently lifting made- 
moiselle’s arm and placing it so that it should once 
more hold her secure on her pillion, I put Fatima to 
a gentle canter; and as I felt Pelagie’s clasp tighten, 
my pulse leaped faster -in my veins, and I gave Fatima 
full rein, and we went thundering down the Rue 
Royale, past Madame Chouteau’s place, with the last 
revelers just coming through the great gates; past 
Auguste Chouteau’s house, standing dark among its 
trees ; past the Government House, still brightly 
lighted, for Governor Delassus and his retinue were 
just entering the great hall ; turned up the Rue de la 
Tour, with the tower at the top of the hill shining 
white in the moonlight, then down the long stretch of 
the Rue de l’Eglise, faster and faster, as mademoi- 
selle clung closer, until we reached the gate of Emi- 
gre’s Retreat, and a great dog came rushing to meet us 
with mighty bounds and joyous barks, and would have 
overpowered us both with his clumsy caresses but that 
a sweet voice (never before one half so sweet) called: 
‘ 4 A bas, Leon ! Tais-toi, mon ange ! ’ 9 


CHAPTER X 


LA GUIGNOLEE 

“By sports like these are all their cares beguiled.” 

I WOKE the next morning with a feeling of elation 
that for a moment I did not understand; then I 
recognized that it was a feeling that mademoiselle and 
I would never again be on any but the friendliest of 
terms. No more fear of merry scoffing or haughty 
disdain ! I had a right to look now for only kindness 
and friendliness. 

But I did not know mademoiselle. The morning 
was bleak; a fine drizzle of rain, freezing as it fell, 
was hanging jeweled pendants from every twig and 
branch. I went down-stairs, to find that morning cof- 
fee was being served in the living-room, on a small 
table drawn up before a blazing fire of logs. Made- 
moiselle, who did not often come to early coffee, was 
serving it, in a warm-looking gown of some wool stuff, 
deep red in color, and I thought it suited well her dark 
beauty and the bleak morning. I stopped at the thresh- 
old to make my low bow, and then went forward, 
expecting a less formal greeting. But she only looked 
up from the silver urn, whence she was drawing a 
cup of coffee for the captain, long enough to say, 
135 


136 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“ Good morning, monsieur,” in her iciest tones, and 
then went on talking gaily to the captain of the ball 
the night before. I did not understand at all, but I 
thought it quite possible I had imagined her coldness ; 
and so, without seeming to push myself unduly, I 
sought to join in the conversation when opportunity 
offered. I think the captain seconded my efforts out 
of the courtesy natural to him ; but mademoiselle made 
it so plain that she desired to ignore me that I soon 
took my cup and withdrew to a corner of the fireplace. 
I hope I did not do anything so boyish as to sulk 
there, but of that I am not sure. 

When the good doctor came bustling in from his 
laboratory a few minutes later, half frozen, but 
burning with enthusiasm over some experiments he 
was making with quicksilver, he brought his coffee 
to my warm corner, and I at once simulated the deep- 
est interest in his account of his morning’s work— 
though I confess I have never taken any great inter- 
est in science, and from what he seemed to expect the 
quicksilver to do I did not feel altogether sure that he 
was not, in truth, dabbling in black art. 

There was a long mirror at the other end of the 
room— one that Madame Saugrain had brought from 
France, and the pride of her heart. As we talked I 
could glance in it and see mademoiselle perfectly with- 
out seeming to look at her. I observed that she grew 
more and more distrait, only half listening to the 
captain, and very evidently trying to overhear our 
conversation. I had not known that mademoiselle was 
so interested in science, and I began to make deep and 


LA GUIGNOLEE 


137 


learned speeches (or, at least, I hoped they sounded 
so) on quicksilver and on every subject allied to it. 
I did not hesitate to make some remarkable statements, 
for whose truth I modestly said I could not vouch. 
The doctor was too courteous to show the surprise I 
think he must have felt at some of them, but if I had 
not been so interested in my investigations in the 
mirror (which, I am sure, is closely allied to quick- 
silver) I would have noticed without doubt that know- 
ing twinkle of the eye that I had seen at least twice 
before. My glances in the mirror, however, showed me 
that my learned speeches had produced their intended 
effect on mademoiselle, at least, and once more I 
caught that wondering glance fixed upon me. 

I did not see mademoiselle again until the evening 
supper-hour. After breakfast Dr. Saugrain invited 
the captain and me to ride with him up to Pierre 
Chouteau’s, and on the ride he told us that made- 
moiselle had come to him that morning in the labora- 
tory and had told him all about the chevalier. I was 
much touched that she had acted upon my advice so 
promptly, and half forgave her for her treatment of 
me at coffee, though I understood it the less. The 
doctor did not say so directly l but I judged from one 
or two little remarks that he and Pelagie had had 
a thorough clearing up of all their misunderstandings 
and were once more on the old confidential terms. He 
spoke especially of her “ sweetness,” and said his 
advice had been, like mine, to write the chevalier at 
once a firm refusal. But the good doctor was greatly 
troubled. 


138 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“I shall never feel quite secure again/ ’ he said, 
* 4 till I have Pelagie safe with her friends in France; 
so I shall seek the first opportunity of sending her 
there. ’T is for that I am going to consult Pierre 
Chouteau, and I thought you might have some sug- 
gestion, one or both of you, as to how to find an escort 
for her.” 

I was so eager with my plan that had flashed on 
me the night before that I could not wait to show the 
proper courtesy to my captain. He certainly had a 
right to speak first, but I broke forth, “I have a plan, 
sir—” and then was abashed and stopped short. 

The doctor understood, and nodded to me. 

“Yes; let the captain speak first, and then we will 
hear your plan . 9 9 

“Nay,” said the captain, with his friendliest smile; 
“let the lad speak. He has a plan that seems to me 
not wholly unpracticable and may prove the very 
thing.” 

Thus encouraged, I rushed ahead : 

“I have been talking to Captain Clarke about it, 
sir, and he thinks it can be done. My last letter from 
home said that Colonel Livingston was about to join 
his father in Paris. My family know Colonel Living- 
ston well, and a letter from my father would insure 
the protection of both Colonel and Mrs. Livingston for 
mademoiselle on the voyage. ’ ’ 

But the good doctor shook his head. 

“I could never get Pelagie to New York, I fear; to 
both Madame Saugrain and myself, such a journey 
seems an almost impossible undertaking.” 


LA GUIGNOLEE 


139 


“But Captain Clarke has that all arranged/ ’ I 
cried. 

The doctor looked at the captain, who answered, 
smiling : 

“It is my good Achates who has arranged it, but I 
heartily approve of his plans. It is time we were get- 
ting back to Kentucky, and he proposes that we take 
mademoiselle with us to my sister, Mrs. O’Fallon. 
There she can stay until we can find a suitable escort 
up the Ohio to Fort Duquesne, and across the moun- 
tains to New York. There are boats going up the river 
every week, and always some one going back to the old 
home to whom we could intrust mademoiselle. I 
think it a good and feasible plan.” 

But we had quite reached Pierre Chouteau’s before 
we had persuaded the doctor that our plan was at all 
a practical one. Not, as he assured us, that he could 
not trust mademoiselle with us, but the difficulties, 
dangers, and inconveniences of such a trip, for a 
young maiden with no woman in the party but her col- 
ored maid, seemed to him almost insurmountable. 
However, he was so nearly convinced by my eloquence 
and the captain’s logic that just as we were turning in 
at Mr. Chouteau’s he said: 

“Well, well, my dear friends, it may be possible. 
We will see! I must take time to consult Madame 
Saugrain, and, until then, not a word to mademoiselle, 
I beg of you both.” 

We both readily promised, though I was so elated at 
what I considered the already assured success of my 
plan that I might have found it difficult not to speak 


140 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


to mademoiselle about it if she had not been in the 
same icy mood to me at supper (though sweet and 
most charming to the captain and her guardian) as 
she had Wen at breakfast. 

The next day Dr. Saugrain told us that he and his 
wife had talked far into the night about Pelagie, and 
they had come to the conclusion that our plan was the 
best solution of the difficulties. He said madame had 
wept much at the thought of parting with Pelagie, 
and of all the difficulties and dangers she must en- 
counter, before she could become reconciled to the 
thought of it ; but now she was quite resigned, and had 
already begun to plan what clothes and other conveni- 
ences it would be necessary for Pelagie to take with 
her, and how they could best be got ready. 

“ And, after the manner of women/’ the doctor said, 
4 ‘ from the moment she began to think about clothes, 
she began to grow cheerful. And she has such con- 
fidence in Clotilde, who will go with her, and who has 
had entire charge of her since her babyhood, that she 
thinks she will be as well taken care of as if she were 
with her herself. But we both think/ ’ he added, 
“that it will be wiser to say nothing to Pelagie about 
it until it is almost time to make the start. If, for any 
reason, our plan should fail, her mind will not be un- 
settled by it, and she will be no worse off than if we 
had not thought of it. Moreover, the fewer we take 
into our confidence the better, for I am assured the 
chevalier has spies and secret emissaries that we do 
not suspect. We will give him no chance to thwart 
our plans ! ’ 9 


LA GUIGNOLEE 


141 


The good doctor spoke the last words so grimly that 
it was easy to understand in what esteem he held the 
villain, and both the captain and I heartily approved 
his precaution. 

There followed busy days for me. The captain, who 
was much engaged in settling up the business for his 
brother which had brought him to St. Louis, had little 
time for aught else, though Governor Delassus, the 
Chouteaus, and Mr. Gratiot made many demands upon 
him for counsel and for social festivities, in which last 
I was courteously included. When these fell upon 
the evening I was very ready to join in them, but my 
days were more than full. All the arrangements for 
mademoiselle’s comfort on the boat my captain had 
intrusted to me, and I was determined that nothing 
should be left undone to make her voyage on the Great 
River as comfortable as possible. The cabin, a rough 
affair at its best, was partitioned into two, and the 
larger one made as clean as six blacks scrubbing hard 
on hands and knees could make it. Then I got from 
Pierre Chouteau a small stove such as he often used 
on his boat in winter trips up the Missouri, and set it 
up in the cabin, cutting a hole in the roof to give 
egress to the stovepipe. From Madame Saugrain I 
got some strips of warm, bright carpet and some clean 
warm bedding, and I set Yorke to work, under my 
careful supervision, to make the two beds for made- 
moiselle and her maid, to tack down the strips of car- 
pet, to put up some white ruffled curtains (also Ma- 
dame Saugrain ’s gift) at the square bit of window, 
and to polish up the brass handles of the portable 


142 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


locker that was to hold mademoiselle’s wardrobe. I 
thought, when all was done,— the small table covered 
with a white cloth, and two shining candlesticks on it, 
and the three comfortable chairs arranged about it, — 
I thought it cozy and complete enough for a trip to 
France ; and my heart beat high when I thought of the 
tete-a-tetes with mademoiselle that must almost neces- 
sarily fall to my lot on a voyage of at least a week. 
But, in the meantime, I was seeing very little of her, 
between being busy all day and often invited out in 
the evening— and not getting much satisfaction when 
I did ; for either she was incased in her icy hauteur, 
or, if she chanced to be kind, I was so brimming over 
with my secret, so afraid I should let it slip, I was un- 
naturally constrained with her. 

Before I knew it the Jour de l’An was upon us, and 
the doctor and the captain had both agreed it would 
be wise to set out on the day before the Jour des Rois. 
On no account would it do to risk remaining over the 
Jour des Rois, lest the chevalier should accomplish his 
purpose in spite of mademoiselle ’s letter of refusal. 

Now, as its name signifies, the Jour de l’An is the 
greatest of all days to these St. Louis Frenchmen. 
Preparations had been making for it all the week. 
The governor himself was to give a grand ball at 
Government House, and I had heard mademoiselle 
telling Captain Clarke, as we sat at supper on New 
Year’s eve, how that would be only the beginning of 
a round of festivities, and that Marguerite Papin, 
Pelagie Chouteau, and she had been making the bean- 
cake that afternoon. 


LA GUIGNOLEE 


143 


“And what is the bean-cake, pray, Mademoiselle ? ’ ’ 
I inquired, determined to take matters into my own 
hands and be no longer shut out from conversation as 
if I were infected. 

Mademoiselle looked up in surprise at my audacity, 
and for a moment was of half a mind not to reply to 
me ; but she thought better of it, and answered coolly 
and formally : 

“ ’T is a cake, Monsieur, with four beans baked in it. 
It will be cut to-morrow night at the governor’s ball, 
and the four maidens who receive the slices with the 
beans will be the queens of the ball. They will choose 
four kings, who will then be obliged to get up the ball 
for the Jour des Rois, and at that these four kings will 
choose four queens, who will choose four other kings, 
who must give the next ball. ’T is an endless chain of 
balls till Shrove Tuesday arrives, to finish it all up 
with one grand carnival ball ; and so you see, sir, if you 
stay in St. Louis I can promise you a merry winter.’ ’ 

I almost laughed as I thought how little she dreamed 
that she would not be here herself. Yet the prospect 
sounded alluring, and I could have been well pleased 
to spend the winter in the gay little village, if the 
fates had ordained. I answered her to that effect, and 
then I added : 

“If you could but give me any hope that I should 
be chosen a king, I might take fate into my own hands 
and stay anyway.” 

“There is much ground for hope, sir,” she an- 
swered demurely, “since both Pelagie Chouteau and 
Marguerite Papin are almost certain to be queens.” 


144 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Then, with a quick beat of the heart, I thought per- 
haps she had not liked it that they had been friendly 
and I had been polite. If her manner to me could be 
so accounted for I was well content, for at least it did 
not argue indifference. 

But before I could reply there was a great noise, 
outside on the gallery, of shuffling feet and smothered 
whispers, and mademoiselle clapped her hands and 
cried : 

“La Guignolee!” And at the same moment there 
arose, to the quaintest air, a chorus of men’s voices: 

€i Bon soir, le maitre et la maitresse, 

Et tout le monde du logis ! 

Pour le premier jour de Pann6e 
La Gruignol^e vous nous devez. 

Si vous n’avez rien a nous donner, 

Dites-nous le ; 

Nous vous demandons pas grande chose, une 6chin6e— 
Une 6chin6e n'est pas bien longue 
De quatre-vingt-dix pieds de longue. 

Encore nous demandons pas de grande chose, 

La fille ain6e de la maison. 

Nous lui ferons faire bonne ch&re— 

Nous lui ferons chauffer les pieds.” 

Horrified at these last words of the song, I scarcely 
dared glance at mademoiselle; but when I did dare, 
to my amazement, she was smiling good-humoredly, 
and I saw the words meant nothing to her. But the 
chorus was interrupted at that moment by a single 
voice which I recognized at once as Josef Papin’s, 
singing a ditty about doves and cuckoos and nightin- 
gales, and winding up by declaring that he was dying 


LA GUIGNOLEE 


145 


for the soft eyes of his mistress. I saw that mademoi- 
selle recognized the voice, too, and I was vexed to see 
the bright color and downcast eyes that betokened 
she understood these words perfectly. 

But the chorus began again immediately : 

il Nous saluons la compagnie 
Et la prions nous excuser. 

Si l’on a fait quelque folie.” 

(I thought this apology most becoming.) 

11 C'6tait pour vous d^sennuyer ; 

Une autre fois nous prendrons garde 
Quand sera temps d’y revenir. 

Dansons la guenille, 

Dansons la guenille, 

Dansons la guenille ! ” 

And then the doors were flung open, and there burst 
in upon us a motley crew of grotesque and hideous 
masks, each one bearing a basket or bucket or sack, 
and all singing and shouting in every key and in no 
time: 

u Bon soir, le maitre et la maitresse, 

Et tout le monde du logis ! ” 

Madame Saugrain and mademoiselle sprang up 
from the table and ran to the kitchen, returning with 
both hands full, and followed by a procession of ser- 
vants bringing eggs and sugar and butter and flour 
and poultry and wine— a goodly donation indeed for 
the Jour des Rois ball, and for which the maskers 

showed their thanks by dancing la guenille, a truly 
10 ‘ ' 


146 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Saturnalian performance, somewhat shocking to my 
Eastern notions of propriety. But evidently neither 
the doctor nor his wife nor mademoiselle saw any harm 
in it, for they applauded it greatly, after the French 
fashion, by clapping of hands and crying ‘ 4 Encore !” 

Yorke had come in with the other servants from the 
kitchen, and it was a sight to see his great eyes rolling 
in ecstasy and his white teeth displayed from ear to 
ear as he watched the mummers, and I was not sur- 
prised to see him follow them like one bewitched as 
they went up toward the Rue des Granges to Paschal 
Cerre’s house, singing: 

u Bon soir, le maitre et la maitresse, 

Et tout le monde du logis ! n 

“You will be having Yorke dancing la guenille,” I 
said to the captain, “when he gets back to Kentucky / 9 

“An he does,” answered the captain, with a grim 
smile, “I will bastinado him.” For I think the cap- 
tain did not like some of the figures of la guenille any 
better than did I. 


CHAPTER XI 


CHOISSEZ LE ROI 

“ She moves a goddess and she looks a queen.” 

I E Jour de l’An was a full day with me. Though 
1 I did not go to early mass with the family, I 
left the house when they did and had a fast gallop 
on Fatima’s back through the gray dawn down to the 
boat, for there were still a few finishing touches to 
be put to my decorations and arrangements for made- 
moiselle’s comfort, and I was in feverish haste that 
all should be in readiness. Captain Clarke and I 
spent the day in visits of ceremony made at the houses 
where we had been so often and so kindly entertained 
during our stay. They were really farewell visits, 
though for prudential reasons we said nothing of our 
approaching departure. At every house we were 
served with croquecignolles and wine or ratafia by the 
young maidens and their mothers, and we were so hos- 
pitably urged to eat and drink that had we done any- 
thing more than make the merest pretense for the 
sake of good fellowship we would have been in no 
condition for the dance in the evening. 

Frenchmen know better how to manage their drink- 
ing than do we Anglo-Saxons. I know not how they 
147 


148 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


do it, but I know not a young fellow appeared at the 
governor’s house in the evening who had apparently 
taken more than was good for him; and yet had our 
Philadelphia lads been through the ordeal of prof- 
fered glasses all day long, I warrant there would not 
have been a corporal’s guard able to line up in good 
order at the governor’s ball. But all these young St. 
Louis Frenchmen were out in fine feather, and carry- 
ing themselves grandly, eyes bright and heads steady, 
ready to lead out to the governor’s table the belles 
of St. Louis, dazzling in brocades and feathers, lace, 
and powder and black patches. 

It was a goodly feast, ragout and roast fowl and 
venison pasties, and cakes and tarts and rich con- 
serves making the tables groan ; but the crowning mo- 
ment was when the governor’s stately butler brought 
in the bean-cake (almost as much as he could carry) 
and set it down before the governor. ’T was a breath- 
less silence as the governor cut each slice and sent it 
first to the maiden nearest him and then to the next in 
order. I was not in the least surprised when one of 
the four beans fell to mademoiselle’s lot; I would have 
been surprised if it had not. There was a burst of 
ringing cheers, led by Josef Papin, when the lucky 
slice came to her, and I thought, “He knows he will * 
be chosen king,” and smiled with bitterness at the 
thought. 

I had not seen mademoiselle all day. As I glanced 
at her now, smiling and coloring with pleasure at 
the cheers that betokened her popularity, it flashed 
into my mind that she would reign a queen indeed 


CHOISSEZ LE ROI 


149 


when she came into her own in France, for I was very 
sure there were no court ladies could compare with her 
for beauty and grace. 

The governor himself crowned the four quepns, and 
then they had to retire into the background for a 
space while their elders danced the first minuet, in 
which the governor led out Madame Chouteau in 
stately measure. But after that formal opening of 
the ball the young people had it all their own way, 
and the four queens queened it royally each with a 
flock of suitors around her. I said to myself proudly, 
“ I will not hang on to any of their trains/ ’ There 
was no possible doubt but that mademoiselle would 
choose Josef Papin (since the chevalier was not there), 
and while I would have liked it well if one of the others 
had chosen me, just to show mademoiselle that all did 
not scorn me, I would not seem to sue for favors. So 
I attached myself to Mademoiselle Chouteau (who had 
not been so lucky as to draw a bean) ; and she being 
in the sauciest mood (and looking exceeding pretty), 
and I feeling that I was at least as well dressed as 
any other man (since I had on my plum-colored velvets 
and my finest lace), and therefore at my ease, we made 
ourselves so entertaining to each other that I began 
in my heart to feel a little regret that this was to be 
my last ball with her. 

I would not so much as look at mademoiselle, whose 
silvery laugh sometimes floated to my ears, for she had 
treated me shamefully of late, and, as far as I could 
see, without the least reason. Just once I caught her 
eye, however. I do not know how it happened, but 


150 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


there was a moment of almost silence in the crowded 
room. The violins were not playing, no one was dan- 
cing, and for one fleeting moment, every one, or nearly 
every one, seemed to have ceased talking. Into this 
strange silence, through the open windows, there 
floated the clear call of the whippoorwill,— only one, 
for the buzz and clamor and clatter of many voices 
surged up again instantly, and the violins began to 
scrape and screech themselves into tune, and no one 
seemed to have noticed either the silence or the whip- 
poorwill. But I could not for the life of me help one 
swift glance toward mademoiselle, and I met her eyes 
seeking mine in a look of startled alarm that was al- 
most terror. I held her glance long enough to say to 
her with my eyes, “Do not be afraid; I will see what 
it is, ” and I had the satisfaction of seeing, before she 
turned away, that she understood and was reas- 
sured. 

A few minutes later I slipped outside. I was not 
entirely at ease about that call, it had meant so much 
once. And I was not at all sure of the chevalier. A 
ball like this, with every one off guard, would be just 
his opportunity. Outside there was a ‘motley throng 
of negroes, river-men, and Indians, hanging around to 
get glimpses of the dancers and the guests coming and 
going. The yard was brightly lighted in spots by 
flaming lightwood torches, which left the other parts 
in deepest gloom. I noticed among the throng a little 
group of mummers, such as had been at Dr. Sau- 
grain’s the night before in hideous masks. This did 
not at first seem strange to me, but afterward I 


CHOISSEZ LE ROI 151 

thought it must be unusual, for they belonged pecu- 
liarly to New Year's eve. 

Leaning against a post that held a lightwood torch, 
a little withdrawn from the others, in solitary dignity, 
stood Black Hawk. I knew if there had been anything 
unusual in the whippoorwill cry he would know it. 
I sauntered up to him carelessly (for if there were 
spies about, I did not want to arouse suspicion), and 
stopped where the light fell full on me, for I knew 
well the value of impressing Black Hawk with the 
splendor of my dress. For the benefit of any possi- 
ble listener, I told him that the governor's halls were 
hot and I must needs get a draft of cold air before I 
could go back to my dancing. Then I talked to him of 
Daniel Boone, for he had been with us on our trip 
to his home, and I knew his admiration for that won- 
derful man. His only responses were a series of 
grunts, but they were amiable ones (I think the old 
savage rather liked me), and as I talked I gradually 
drew nearer. When I was quite close to him, I said 
suddenly, in a low tone : 

“ Does the Great Chief of the Sacs think there are 
any White Wolves or Red Dogs about to-night? " 

I saw a sudden glitter in his eye, but that was the 
only response except the invariable “ Ugh! " Then 
I said again in the same low tone : 

“ If Black Hawk will watch and let his white 
brother know what he finds out, it will greatly please 
the brother of the Captain of the Long Knives. ' ' 

There was another “ Ugh! "—this time with half 
an inclination of the head, and I went back to the 


152 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


dance satisfied that if there was anything wron^. 
Black Hawk would discover it. 

It was half an hour later when Yorke came to me 
between the figures of the dance and begged a word 
with me. 

“ Jes as soon as yo’ can slip out unbeknownst-like, ’ ’ 
he said, “ that thar decent redskin ’s waitin’ to speak 
to yo’-all at the kitchen doah. Yo’ ’s to go down 
through the house, so ’s nobody outside won’t see yo’.” 

I found an opportunity as soon as that dance was 
over, and going down through the house, with Yorke 
as my guide, I found Black Hawk waiting, and with- 
out a preliminary word, in slow, sententious fashion, 
he delivered his message. 

“ Black Hawk say to White Brother, Beware of 
White Wolf and six Red Dogs. Wear devil’s faces. 
All gone now. Wait for Little White Fawn going 
home. Black Hawk go home with White Fawn and 
Fine Dress and Long Knives’ brother and Little Medi- 
cine-man and Big Black.” 

I understood his broken sentences very well. The 
mummers were, as I had half suspected, the chevalier 
and a band of Osages. They would lie in wait for 
Pelagie on our way home and capture her if we were 
off guard. Black Hawk offered his services to guard 
her on the way home, and I gladly accepted them, 
for even then the chevalier’s band would outnumber 
us ; and while in a hand-to-hand fight I did not doubt 
we were much the better men, they would have greatly 
the advantage of us in being able to spring upon us 
from ambuscade and get the first shot. 


1 



u In solitary dignity stood Black Hawk v 




CHOISSEZ LE ROI 


153 


Black Hawk had planned our forces well, but I did 
not like his title for me, “ Fine Dress I would 
rather he had called me “ Straight Shoot,” the name 
he had several times given me on our trip together up 
the Missouri. I had a lurking doubt that he was re- 
buking me for my vanity. 

But there was no time to quarrel about titles. I 
hunted up Dr. Saugrain, whom I found in the wide 
chimney-corner, the center of a group of choice spir- 
its,— the two Chouteaus, Mr. Gratiot, Mr. Cerre, Fran- 
cis Vigo, and Manuel Lisa,— and he was telling them 
all, with great enthusiasm, about his experiments in 
quicksilver, and, to my surprise, they were listening as 
eagerly as if he had been telling tales of war and ad- 
venture— which was a marvelous thing to me, to 
whom science was ever dull and dry-as-dust. I liked 
not to interrupt him, but the need was pressing, 
and when I had called him to one side and told him of 
the presence of the chevalier and his Osages, he was 
greatly excited. 

The thing that troubled me most was that we were 
without firearms. I had my sword on, of course, and 
so had the captain, but swords would be of little use, 
for the savages would not wait for a hand-to-hand en- 
counter, but would fire at long range. The only thing 
to be done was to borrow from the governor ; and in his 
grand Spanish manner he pressed all the guns of his 
armory upon us, and said he would send a messenger 
at once to the fort to have a troop despatched to scour 
the town and rid it of every suspicious character; 
which was somewhat of a relief to me, but would have 


154 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


been more so if I could only have felt more confidence 
in his slow-moving Spanish soldiers. 

But the governor begged, since it was a matter that 
required no haste, that we would say nothing to 
alarm his guests and so break up the dance in undue 
time, for, as he said, the kings had not yet been 
chosen, and it would be a great pity to interfere 
with that pleasant ceremony. As for me, I would 
have been quite willing to dispense with it. There 
would be no pleasure to me in seeing mademoiselle 
pin her bouquet on the lapel of Josef Papin’s coat, 
thus choosing him her king ; but there was nothing to 
do but go back to the ball-room and see it out. 

As I entered the room, there happened to be a little 
break in the coterie of young men surrounding made- 
moiselle, and through it I met her glance of eager 
inquiry. She had evidently missed me from the room, 
and had her suspicions as to the cause of my long 
absence. I returned her glance with an assuring smile 
that all was well, and went on to where I had left 
Mademoiselle Chouteau a half-hour before. I could 
not have expected her to sit in a corner waiting for 
me all that while, yet when I found that she too had 
her little coterie, and I was evidently not missed, I 
felt unaccountably hurt and forlorn : as if there was 
no place for me, an alien, among these St. Louis 
French people. As I had done many times before, I 
turned to Madame Saugrain for comfort. 

It was nearing midnight, and I had wondered as 
I came in why they were not dancing. Now I saw 
the reason of it. Down through the center of the floor 


CHOISSEZ LE ROI 


155 


came the governor, followed by his tall butler bearing 
a silver tray with four small bouquets upon it. He 
went directly to mademoiselle first, and then to the 
three other queens in turn, presenting each with 
one of the bouquets and making to each a gallant 
little speech, which the four maidens received with 
smiles and blushes and curtsies as became them, 
but mademoiselle also with a stately grace befitting 
a queen. 

Then there was a moment of intense expectancy, 
for it was mademoiselle who was first to place her 
bouquet on the lapel of the coat of the chosen king. 
I would not look at her. I did not want to see her 
put it upon Josef Papin’s coat, though there was no 
other there more fitting to receive it or who would 
make a more royal king for such a queen. So I half 
turned my back and talked busily to madame, who 
listened to me not at all, so engrossed was she in the 
spectacle. It seemed to me a long time in the doing, 
and presently I saw in madame ’s eyes a light of eager 
surprise. 

“ Look, m’ami, look! ” she cried to me. But I 
would not look; no, not even when I began to feel 
a suspicion of what was going to happen, from a 
queer feeling in my backbone, and my heart beating 
like a trip-hammer, and the blood rushing to the roots 
of my hair. 

‘ ‘ Look, look ! I beg you to turn ! ’ ’ madame cried 
again. But I would not turn, though I heard a sub- 
dued murmur of voices all around me, and a soft rustle 
of silken skirts coming nearer and nearer— not until 


156 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


the soft rustle stopped close beside me, and a sweet 
voice said: 

“ Shall I pin my bouquet upon Monsieur’s back? 
I believe it is usual to pin it upon the lapel of the 
coat.” 

Then I turned quickly, and for all the answer I 
made I dropped on one knee and held toward her the 
lapel of my coat, and as she stooped to pin it on I 
looked straight into her eyes. And what my eyes said 
to hers I know not, but quickly the white lids drooped 
over hers and shut me out from heaven, while the long 
black lashes lay upon her cheek, and the rich blood 
swept in a slow flood from the snowy throat to the dark 
waves of hair that crowned her white brow. 

And now her fingers trembled so in pinning on the 
flowers that she was long in the doing of it (though 
I could have wished it much longer) ; and when she 
had finished I seized the hand that trembled, and for 
the first time I had ever dared I pressed my lips upon 
it. I saw another wave of color sweep her face, and 
then she bade me rise, and as I stood beside her a 
burst of acclaims came from every lip, “ Vive le roi ! 
Yive le roi ! ” and from one, “ Vive le roi et la reine ! ” 
and I could not have been prouder had I been king 
indeed, and she my royal consort beside me ! 


CHAPTER XII 


A MIDNIGHT FRAY 


"Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.” 

J OSEF PAPIN was the first to bow the knee to me 
in mock homage, and as his laughing eyes met 
mine he said, in a tone not so low but that mademoi- 
selle might have heard if she had listened : 

“I owe you a grudge, sire. You have stolen the 
honors I so dearly coveted. ’ ’ 

A sudden impulse seized me. 

“ Would you like to be detailed on some special 
service to your king and queen ?” I asked. 

“Most certainly, sire.” 

“Then stay by me, and when the ceremony of 
choosing the next king begins I will tell you about it. ’ ’ 
Here was a heart as true as steel, ready to be gener- 
ous to a successful rival and loyal unto death to his 
queen. It would not hurt to have one more guard 
for mademoiselle on our midnight ride ; we would then 
more nearly match in numbers the chevalier’s band, 
and by numbers alone might intimidate him from 
even making the attack. Which was much to be de- 
sired, since there would be two ladies in our party, 
157 


158 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and fighting and bloodshed are not for tender hearts 
like theirs to know. 

But more than that, I thought I could give him no 
greater pleasure than the chance to prove himself of 
some real service to mademoiselle, and I would like 
to atone for stealing the honors he had felt so sure of. 
And more still : we had decided, in our hasty confer- 
ence a little while before,— Dr. Saugrain, my captain, 
and I,— that it would not do at all to wait until the day 
before the Jour des Rois, as we had at first intended. 
Since the boat was in readiness, and the captain’s 
business finished, there was no reason why we should 
not start at once. We had decided, therefore, on the 
next morning for our departure, for we all felt that as 
long as the chevalier was lurking about there was no 
safety for mademoiselle until she was well on her way 
to France. 

To spirit mademoiselle away without a chance of 
saying good-by to so good a friend as young Papin 
seemed to me unkind to them both. We could trust 
him fully, and he should have his chance to say good- 
by. The captain and Dr. Saugrain had intrusted me 
with the entire arrangement for mademoiselle’s safety 
and given me command of our little force, so I could 
make my offer to him with authority. When the op- 
portunity offered to explain to him, a very few min- 
utes sufficed to tell him our fears for mademoiselle’s 
safety. His eyes flashed fire as he listened, and when 
I said to him, “ Would you like to make one of our 
guard on our way home?” he grasped my hand and 
wrung it. 


A MIDNIGHT FRAY 


159 


4 4 1 thank you, monsieur, ’ * he said, and then he mut- 
tered in my ear : 

4 4 What would I not give for one good chance at the 
chevalier ! ’ ’ 

Half an hour later our little cavalcade set off from 
the governor’s house, the governor himself waving us 
an adieu from the gallery steps. We had placed ma~ 
dame and mademoiselle in the center, with Josef Pa- 
pin on one side and myself on the other. Black Hawk 
and Yorke were in the van, and Captain Clarke and 
Dr. Saugrain brought up the rear. 

It had been necessary to make to the two ladies some 
explanation of these warlike arrangements, but we 
had said nothing of the presence of the chevalier. I 
knew it would distress mademoiselle, nor was I sure 
that her heart would not dictate a surrender, and he 
would at last accomplish his purpose and bear her 
away with him, a willing captive, to France. We had 
only said that a suspicious band of Osages was lurking 
about, and we thought it wise to take some precau- 
tions. 

There was, on the Rue de l’Eglise, which was our 
direct way home, one spot peculiarly fitted for an am- 
buscade, where the road dipped suddenly into a deep 
gully and rose again on the farther side, and where, 
owing to the marshy nature of the soil, the forest had 
not been cleared away. It was a lonely bit of road, 
without houses on either side for a quarter of a mile, 
and I thought it more than likely that the chevalier 
would select this spot for an attack, if he intended to 
make one. 


160 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


To cheat him, if possible, we rode up the hill of the 
Rue de la Tour and turned to the left at the fort, 
which was dark and silent, a proof to me that the 
troops had left it, and had, no doubt, ere this rid the 
village of our enemy. The Rue des Granges, down 
which we rode, ran along the crest of the hill, and 
there was no marsh here to be crossed, and the gully 
had run out to a mere depression. We bore no torches, 
and moving as silently as possible through the black- 
ness of the night, we hoped we might escape detec- 
tion. But as we came to the head of the gully I 
glanced down, and at that moment a swift spark as 
from a tinder flashed into the air, followed by a steady 
glow, and I knew the chevalier was there and that, 
deeming himself securely hidden among the trees, he 
had just lighted a cigar to keep him company in his 
stealthy watch. And I knew, too, that if I but drew 
my pistol and took steady aim at that glow-worm in 
the dark there would be no more trouble or anxiety 
for any of us on mademoiselle’s account. For one 
moment I hesitated, and Fatima, feeling the involun- 
tary grasp of her bridle-rein, half stopped. But could 
I have brought my mind to the committing of a cold- 
blooded murder like that, the memory of mademoi- 
selle’s plea for the chevalier’s safety would have pal- 
sied my arm. Yet my generosity had like to have been 
our undoing. What it was that betrayed us I know 
not. It may have been the tramp of our horses’ feet, 
conveyed down the gully as by an ear-trumpet ; or it 
is possible that in spite of the darkness our moving 
figures were silhouetted against the faint light in the 


A MIDNIGHT FRAY 


161 


western sky ; or a stone, loosened by one of our horses, 
may have rolled down the gully to the chevalier’s 
feet. Whatever it was, I knew we were discovered. 
There was suddenly a soft call of a whippoorwill from 
below us, answered quickly and softly by a half-dozen 
others, and then a sound as of hasty but cautious stir- 
rings. I knew what it meant : they had seen us, and 
they would cut us off before we reached our gates. I 
gave a quick word of command : 

‘ ‘ Ride as hard and as fast as you can ; never mind 
the noise you make. We are discovered ! Our only 
hope of avoiding a fight is by reaching the gates 
first. ’ ’ 

Black Hawk and Yorke were off like a shot : Yorke, 
I have no doubt, with the intention of getting to cover 
as quickly as possible, but Black Hawk, I believe, 
after a scalp or two. I had to call to them both to come 
back and keep close to the ladies. Mademoiselle had 
uttered not a word, only urged her little La Bette to 
do her utmost, but madame, since the embargo of si- 
lence was removed, did not cease to utter a string of 
prayers and entreaties to “le bon Dieu” to save us all 
from the savages. 

We were on the crest of the hill, and looking down 
to the Rue de l’Eglise I could get an inkling of what 
progress the savages were making from an occasional 
flash of shining metal in a ray of light from some win- 
dow ; for though the hour was late the town was still 
astir from the governor’s ball, and lights were in most 
of the houses. As yet they were some distance behind 
us, but though we were on horses and they afoot, they 

IX 


162 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


had a much shorter distance to travel and they were 
fleet runners. We were like a chain, only as strong 
as our weakest link ; we were only as fleet as our slow- 
est horse, and that was the one that bore madame’s 
plump figure. La Bette was not much faster, and 
I began to get in a fever of impatience, as I could see 
the savages were steadily gaining on us. Should we 
meet them in that dark lane leading down from the 
Rue des Granges to the Rue de TEglise we were al- 
most certainly at their mercy. In a few minutes it 
was evident to me that at our present rate of progress 
they were sure to meet us there, and there seemed no 
possible way of hurrying our two slow ponies. I 
would have turned back but that I believed the cheva- 
lier was sharp enough to have sent part of his men up 
the gully to cut off our retreat, should we attempt 
one. There was but one thing to do: Fatima had 
saved mademoiselle once; she should save her again. 
I leaned back of mademoiselle and spoke to Josef 
Papin : 

u We will never reach the house before the savages 
at this rate. I shall take mademoiselle on Fatima and 
get her safe inside the gates. You and Black Hawk 
follow me as quickly as possible, and the other three 
will remain to protect Madame Saugrain.” 

Then I called a halt and explained my plan to the 
others. It needed but a word, and there was no 
demur but a low wail from Madame Saugrain, who, 
I make no doubt, believed Pelagie was going to certain 
death. Mademoiselle herself said nothing ; I think for 
the first time she realized that the chevalier was lead- 


A MIDNIGHT FRAY 


163 


in g the Osages and that their only aim was to get 
possession of her. 

My explanation had not consumed a minute, and as 
I finished it I turned in my saddle. 

“ By your leave, Mademoiselle, ’ ’ I said, bent over 
and lifted her from La Bette’s back (and never was I 
more thankful for my great strength and that she was 
but a feather-weight, else had the feat proved a dif- 
ficult one) and placed her securely in front of me on 
Fatima. ’T was not so comfortable a seat as at my 
back, no doubt, but I dared not risk her where I could 
not see what befell her. One word to Fatima : 

“ Sweetheart, for our lives!” I laid the reins low 
on her neck, and we were off with a long swinging 
stride that soon left even Black Hawk and Papin far 
behind, though they were urging their good horses 
to the utmost. 

There was not a moment to be lost, for I could see 
that the savages were nearing the junction of the 
lane and the Rue de l’Eglise, and we must pass that 
point before them and ride some twenty paces down 
the Rue de l’Eglise before we should reach the gates 
and a safe refuge behind the walls of Emigre’s Re- 
treat. I did not cease to urge Fatima by my voice, 
though never touching her reins. One arm held made- 
moiselle securely, and my right hand lay on the hol- 
ster of my pistol, ready for instant service. 

Out of the Rue des Granges we shot like a bolt, into 
the steep and rough lane leading down the hill. Had 
I not held mademoiselle so firmly I think that swift 
swerve at the sharp corner might have unseated us 


164 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


both. Faster and faster we flew, like a swallow on 
the wing, Fatima ’s dainty feet as surely placed among 
the rocks and holes of the rough road as if she had 
been pacing in Rotten Row. Well she knew that a 
misstep of hers now might mean death to all three of 
us, and well she knew that her master trusted her 
perfectly. 

I could feel mademoiselle’s heart fluttering like a 
caged bird for terror; my own was beating like a 
trip-hammer, for I was near enough now to perceive 
that the savages too were redoubling their efforts and 
it was still a chance which of us would reach the 
corner of the Rue de l’Eglise first. 

‘ ‘ Faster, Sweetheart, faster ! ’ ’ I urged in an agony 
of apprehension as I pressed my knees close to Fati- 
ma’s hot sides, and felt her breath beginning to come 
in long laboring moans as my great weight (with 
mademoiselle’s added one, which might yet prove the 
last feather) began to tell on her. Bravely she re- 
sponded to my voice and stretched out farther and 
faster at every stride, and in another moment, with 
another tremendous swerve, we had turned the corner 
into the Rue de l’Eglise with the foremost of the sav- 
ages not twenty feet behind us. I expected nothing 
less than a bullet in my back, and was glad indeed that 
mademoiselle was in front of me, fully shielded by my 
broad shoulders, for I knew whatever befell me 
Fatima would carry mademoiselle into the garden 
and to the very door of Emigre’s Retreat before any 
savage could possibly reach her. But I felt no bullet, 
nor did any whistle by my ears, and I wondered why, 


A MIDNIGHT FRAY 


165 


until I saw, what the savage possibly saw too in the 
dim light, that mademoiselle (whose head had been 
cowering on my breast like a child in great terror try- 
ing to hide from the sight of danger) had, as we 
turned into the Rue de TEglise, raised her head and 
looked boldly over my shoulder. 

I have no doubt the savage feared to shoot, lest he 
should hit that white face, and I did not doubt that 
was mademoiselle ’s plan, to use herself as a shield for 
me. I was very angry with her, but I had only time 
to draw her head roughly down on my shoulder again 
when we were within the gates and, in a dozen mighty 
strides, at the very door of Emigre ’s Retreat. 

At the sound of clattering hoofs, Narcisse and half 
a dozen servants, among them mademoiselle’s maid, 
Clotilde, came running out on the gallery. I sprang 
from my horse and lifted mademoiselle down, in too 
great haste to be gentle, I fear. 

“ Take your mistress into the house and bar every 
door and window!” I cried sharply. “The savages 
are after us ! 9 9 

It needed but that word “ savages ” to lend wings 
of terror to the usually slow and lazy movements of 
the negroes. With shrieks of women and shouts of 
men, they dragged mademoiselle into the house, and 
I heard the hasty putting up of bars. Then I turned 
to meet that one savage who was so far in advance 
and who must by this time have reached the gates. 
I had no fear, now that I was free of mademoiselle, 
for I felt myself good for two or three of them, and 
I could even now hear the clattering hoofs of Josef 


166 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Papin ’s and Black Hawk’s horse coming down the 
lane, and they were a host in themselves. But by the 
time I had reached the gate there was a great noise of 
shouts and firing and wild halloos at the corner, and 
I ran on, knowing that Papin and Black Hawk must 
have met the savages, and knowing that the two would 
be outnumbered and greatly in need of my assistance. 

But I had hardly got into the thick of the melee, 
cutting and slashing with my sword for fear a shot 
would go astray and hit one of my friends should I 
use my pistol, when the savages suddenly turned tail 
and ran off, disappearing in the night like shadows. 
For a moment I thought it was my prowess that had 
put them to flight, and I began in my heart to plume 
myself thereon. But only for a moment, for up the 
Rue des Granges and down the steep lane there came 
charging the belated troops of Spanish horsemen (they 
had stupidly been scouring the other end of the 
village, it seems), and would have charged full upon 
us, no doubt,— since in the dark one could not tell 
friend from foe,— had not young Papin called out in 
Spanish that we were friends and belonged to I>r. 
Saugrain’s party. Whereupon the officer halted long 
enough to inquire in which direction the savages had 
fled, and with many a round Spanish oath that he 
would not leave one of the red dogs alive if he had to 
follow them to Cape Girardeau, he led his troop clat- 
tering off toward the stockade. And no sooner had 
they disappeared than down the steep lane came the 
rest of the party, Madame Saugrain half dead with 
fright (for she had heard the sounds of firing and 


A MIDNIGHT FRAY 


167 


of fighting, and feared the worst for Pelagie), the 
doughty doctor and my captain not a little disap- 
pointed that they should have missed the fray, and 
Yorke almost as much so, since it had turned out to be 
such an easy victory. 

But when I had told madame that Pelagie was safe 
in the house and the savages had fled and, except for 
a scratch on my forehead that scarce drew blood, 
no one was hurt (though at that very moment Black 
Hawk came creeping back out of the darkness hang- 
ing a dripping scalp to his belt, which when I per- 
ceived I was nigh sick unto death for a moment) — 
when I told her all this (and, fortunately, madame 
did not see Black Hawk’s ugly trophy), she broke 
forth into a Te Deum and went happily up to the 
house, where Pelagie herself came running out to meet 
her, and they fell into each other’s arms and, after 
the manner of women, wept long and loud for joy, 
though they had shed no tears when there might have 
been occasion for them. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A PRETTY BOY!” 


11 And to be wroth with one we love 
Doth work like madness in the brain.” 


' the door of the house, Black Hawk and Yorke 



1 . jL branched off to the servants’ quarters, and I fol- 
lowed them to see what had become of Fatima, for 
I had left her standing beside the gallery when I ran 
back to meet the savage. I found her standing pa- 
tiently by the stable door waiting to be let in, and she 
whinnied with, delight as she heard my step. I called 
to Yorke to come and take care of her (for I was 
in haste to get back to the house), and at the sound of 
my voice Leon came rushing, in great bounds. To- 
gether we walked down to the well, that I might wash 
the blood from my face before presenting myself to 
the ladies. The well was in a low part of the grounds, 
some little distance from the house, and it was while I 
was vigorously splashing my hands and face that I 
heard a low growl from Leon. I looked up quickly 
and thought I caught the glimpse of a gun, and in- 
stinctively I sprang to one side, that if any one was 
aiming at me I might cheat him of his aim. At 
the same moment Leon sprang with a terrible roar 


168 


“A PRETTY BOY!” 


169 


straight at the spot where I had fancied I saw the 
metal shining and where now I was sure I heard the 
rustle of some one fleeing. I followed quickly after, for 
the thought of any human creature in the power of 
that great beast in rage was awful to me. Enemy or 
no, I would if possible save him from being torn to 
pieces by a furious dog. 

As I ran, I called to him as I had heard his mistress 
call, and in French, lest he might not understand 
English : 

“A has, Leon! Tais-toi, mon ange!” But the 
words had no meaning for him in my gruff voice: it 
was the soft music of his mistress’s tones he under- 
stood and obeyed. I heard another furious roar, a 
wild shriek as of a creature in mortal fear or pain, 
and then a shot. I was on the spot almost before the 
shot had ceased to ring in my ears. There lay Leon on 
the white snow, a dark mass writhing in what I feared 
was a death-struggle, and above him stood the chev- 
alier, his smoking pistol in his hand. I knew as soon 
as I saw him in Indian costume that he was the savage 
who had been the foremost of his band, who had fol- 
lowed us so closely and had disappeared when I had 
gone to seek him. It was in the doctor’s garden he 
had disappeared and lain in hiding to accomplish the 
capture or execute a revenge later. 

My own pistol was in my hand, and I covered him 
with it. In that moment of rage when Leon, whom 
I had learned to love and who loved me, — Leon, her 
dog,— great, beautiful, tried and trusty companion 
and friend,— lay dying from a shot from that villain’s 


170 


THE ROSE OP OLD ST, LOUIS 


hand : in that moment of rage I came near putting an 
end at once and forever to a life that I believed could 
never be anything but a curse to any mortal asso- 
ciated with it. But the words of Pelagie rang in my 
ears and stayed my hand : 

“If it is in your power, save the chevalier !” 

His own pistol was empty and he knew himself to 
be at my mercy, and that his life was worth no more 
than the snuffing out of a candle ; yet, to do him justice, 
he held his ground and returned my gaze as fearlessly 
as he might have done had we stood with drawn 
swords, each ready for the thrust and parry. 

The old moon had but lately risen, and, hanging 
low in the eastern sky, her level rays fell full on the 
chevalier’s face. It was white enough, but that might 
have been the effect of her sickly light reflected from 
the ghostly snow ; the daredevil in his eyes said plainly 
as words, “ Do your worst! ” 

For a full half-minute I kept him covered, and for 
a full half-minute he returned my steady gaze. Then 
suddenly there arose from the house the noise of 
doors opening and shutting and the hurried tramp of 
feet. I knew what it meant. The shot had been 
heard and they were coming to see what had happened. 
In a moment they would all be upon us,— my captain, 
the doctor, young Papin, yes, and Yorke and Black 
Hawk too,— and there would be no possibility of sav- 
ing the chevalier. 

He heard the noise, also, and he too knew what it 
meant. For one instant his eyes wavered and he 
looked as if he would turn and run, spite of my threat- 


“A PRETTY BOY!” 


171 


erring pistol. Only for an instant, and then he drew 
himself up proudly and threw back his head. 

“Fire, Monsieur,” he said. “Why do you wait 
to let others share the glory ?” 

For answer I lowered my pistol. 

“ Monsieur, ” I said, “ you richly deserve death, 
and for a moment you were in deadly peril ; but Made- 
moiselle Pelagie, whom you would basely wrong, 
pleads for you, and I spare your life at her interces- 
sion. If you will turn and run directly south, there 
is a low place in the wall, and on this side a pile of logs 
by which you may easily scale it, and almost directly 
opposite a narrow opening in the stockade through 
which you can force your way. But you must run 
for your life. I will remain here and do what I can 
to prevent pursuit ; ’t will be no easy matter to keep 
Black Hawk off your trail.” 

Yet he did not start at once. He hesitated and his 
eyes fell; then he looked up quickly and half ex- 
tended his hand. 

4 4 Monsieur, you have been a generous foe ; will you 
permit that I clasp your hand? ” 

But a flood of memories rushed over me: his un- 
swording me in the dance ; his attempt to steal made- 
moiselle at the picnic and to poison her mind against 
her friends ; this second attempt, where it was through 
no fault of his that we were not all dead men and 
mademoiselle far on her way to Cape Girardeau, in the 
power of savages and a villain more to be dreaded 
than they. I put my hand behind me and said coldly : 

‘ ‘ My hand belongs to my friends and to a foe whom 


172 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

I can honor. Monsieur, if you tarry longer, I will not 
be responsible for your life. ’ ’ 

Even in the pale light I could see the deep flush 
sweep his cheek and his hand spring involuntarily to 
his sword-hilt. But he thought better of it, turned, 
and strode quickly away toward the low spot in the 
stone wall. 

Then I had leisure to think of poor Leon. I knelt 
down beside him, where a dark pool was rapidly wi- 
dening in the white snow. I could see where the red 
fountain gushed from a wound in his shoulder. It 
was possible no vital part had been touched and he 
might be saved could that gushing fountain of life- 
blood be stanched. As it was, his eyes were already 
glazing and his limbs stiffening and his breath coming 
in long-drawn sobs, like a man in extremity. He 
was like to breathe his last before even those hurrying 
feet, fast drawing near, should reach him. I knew 
enough of surgery to know that I must apply a tight 
bandage above the wound; but where should I find a 
bandage 1 My flimsy lace handkerchief was worse than 
useless. There was no help for it : the purple silken 
sword-sash, of which I was mightily proud, whose long 
fringed ends, tied in a graceful knot, fell almost to 
my knees, must be sacrificed. I hastily unknotted it, 
and tenderly as possible, that I might not hurt the 
poor fellow more than needs must (for his flesh quiv- 
ered under my touch ) , I bound it round the shoulder 
and with all my strength drew it tight. Quickly the 
gushing fountain stayed, and then taking from my 


“A PRETTY BOY!” 


173 


pocket a flask that my mother herself had always hid 
me carry, I forced a few drops into his fast-setting 
jaws. I knew I had done the right thing when, by the 
time they had all come up, Leon had lifted his head 
and was feebly licking my hand. 

Their first exclamations of horror were followed by 
a hail of questions : 

“ Who has done this? ” “ Where is he? ” “ Did 
you see him? ” “ How did it happen? ” 

To all their questions I made but one answer : 

“ I heard the shot, and ran up to find Leon lying 
on the ground, dying as I believed, and I have done 
what I could to help him.” 

“ And you have saved his life, or, at least, if he 
lives, he will have only you to thank,” said Dr. Sau- 
grain, who' had been on his knees beside Leon, exam- 
ining him. 

“ You and your silken sash,” he added, with the 
old twinkle of his eye. ‘ ‘ ’T was a noble sacrifice, and 
we all appreciate how great a one. ’ ’ 

The good doctor was ever twitting me on what he 
was pleased to call my love of dress ; but I made him no 
answer this time, for I was watching Black Hawk, 
who, with an Indian’s cunning, had at once discov- 
ered the footprints in the snow and that there was but 
one pair of them, and was stealing oft after them. 
That would never do. 

“ Great Chief,” I cried, “ ’t is no use following the 
Red Dog; he has had too long a start. Will you help 
us to carry the dog of La Petite to the house, where 


174 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


we can put him in a warm bed ? ’T will never do to 
let him lie in the snow, and ’t will take us all to carry 
him comfortably. ’ ’ 

Black Hawk hesitated, and then grunted out an un- 
willing consent. I think it seemed to him somewhat 
beneath the dignity of a great chief to carry a dog, and 
only because of his love for La Petite did he bring his 
mind to it. Nor did my little fiction about the Red 
Dog deceive him. 

“No Red Dog,” he grunted. “White Wolf! Trail 
fresh. Black Hawk bring his scalp to La Petite.” 

But the doctor saved me the necessity of arguing 
further with him. 

“Red Dog or White Wolf, Black Hawk,” he said, 
“ n’importe ! ’T is the mastiff we must look to now. 
A sad day ’t would be for all of us should he die; 
so lend a hand, vite, vite ! ’ ’ 

And this from the doctor, who had told me when 
I first met him he would not have cared had I killed 
Leon, for he loved him not. The truth was that the 
doctor ’s devotion to Leon and Leon ’s to him were sec- 
ond only to the devotion of the dog and his mistress 
to each other, though, owing to the fact that Leon 
often stalked into his laboratory at inopportune mo- 
ments, sometimes spoiling the most delicate experiment 
by poking his great inquisitive muzzle where it did 
not belong, the doctor’s patience was sometimes tried 
almost beyond the limit of endurance. 

The doctor’s exhortation, uttered in a sharp and 
clipping way peculiar to him when excited, was effec- 
tual. Very tenderly between us all we managed to 


“A PRETTY BOY!” 


175 


lift the mastiff, and bore him to the negroes’ quar- 
ters, where, in Narcisse’s cabin, we made him a warm 
bed and washed and dressed his wound, and left him 
in a fair way to recovery. 

I was a little behind the others in reaching the 
house, for I had delayed about some last arrange- 
ments for Leon’s comfort, and then it had been neces- 
sary that I should make a hasty toilet. Hands and 
face were soiled with blood and grime (my purple 
velvets I feared were ruined forever, but I would 
not take the time to change them), and my hair was 
in much disorder. A hasty scrubbing of hands and 
face and a retying of my hair-ribbon to try to con- 
fine the rebellious yellow curls that were tumbling all 
over my head, and that I so much despised, were all 
I permitted myself time for. Yet the few minutes I 
had lingered had been long enough for the launching 
of a thunderbolt, and I arrived just at the moment to 
see the havoc it had made. 

Mademoiselle in her ball-dress had thrown herself 
on her knees beside madame, her white arms flung 
around madame ’s neck, her face buried in her mo- 
therly bosom, sobbing piteously. Madame gently 
stroked the dark curls, saying over and over only the 
same w r ords, “My child, my child, my poor child!” 
while the tears flowed down her own cheeks all un- 
noticed. 

The doctor stood beside her, patting as he could 
her white arm or dark curls or tender cheek, and say- 
ing helplessly : 

“ Voila, voilal Quoi done! N’importe, n’im- 


176 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


porte !” and many other as senseless words, and grow- 
ing every moment more hopeless and helpless as made- 
moiselle but wept the more bitterly. 

On the other side of the room stood young Papin, 
pale and rigid as if carved in stone, his eyes fixed on 
mademoiselle. I feared that for him too it had been 
a bitter blow, for I could not doubt that it was the 
announcement of mademoiselle’s departure on the 
morrow that had created such consternation. 

The captain had discreetly turned his back and was 
looking out of the window. At the sound of my en- 
trance he turned and beckoned me to him. 

“ I fear ’twill never do,” he whispered; “ the 
maiden is breaking her heart. ’ ’ 

As if she had heard his words, mademoiselle lifted 
her head, and though her face was tear-stained and 
her hair hanging in disheveled locks about it, it was 
still the most beautiful face I had ever seen. 

At sight of me she flung her head back, and her 
eyes flashed. She extended one round white arm 
toward me, and in tones of bitter scorn she exclaimed : 

“It is you, you, Monsieur, who have done this! 
I will not leave my guardians and my home and go 
away with you ! You would not hear of my going 
with the chevalier, yet he was a French gentleman, 
and not merely a pretty boy! ” 

Madame and the doctor tried in vain to stop her 
tirade. She was in a fury; such blazing eyes, such 
crimson cheeks, and voice quivering with scorn. For 
a moment I was abashed and would have liked to 
slink out of sight. But when she was so ungenerous 


“A PRETTY BOY!” 


177 


as to call me “a pretty boy,” the fire returned to 
my heart, and I too drew myself up proudly. 

“Mademoiselle, listen to me!” I said sternly. “I 
have but a few minutes ago spared the chevalier’s life 
when I had him at my mercy, and shown him the way 
to escape from your friends here, who were running 
at the sound of his shot, and who, had they found him 
in Dr. Saugrain’s grounds, would have made short 
work with him, I fear.” (I could not but note out of 
the corner of my eye while I was speaking the quick 
start of young Papin at this announcement, the eager 
interest of my captain, and the doctor’s look of 
dismay.) 

“ I spared him, and I told him that I spared him, 
only because you had begged me to do my utmost to 
save him if he should ever fall into my power. I 
cannot believe that he would have treated me or any 
one of your friends with the like courtesy. He is how 
well on his way to Cape Girardeau, but I think he is 
not gone so far but that he can be easily overtaken. 
Black Hawk is ready to set out at once ; indeed, it is 
with much difficulty that I have restrained him from 
so doing. Then, if you desire it, and Dr. Saugrain and 
madame approve, you can return to France under the 
chevalier’s protection.” 

I lifted my hand as the doctor and his wife both 
started to speak. 

“ Nay, my friends, permit that mademoiselle first 
tells me her pleasure.” 

Then, as mademoiselle (whose eyes were no longer 
flashing with scorn, but regarding me with the same 

12 


178 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


wonder I had seen in them before) did not speak, I 
said, if possible with greater sternness : 

“ Speak at once, mademoiselle : shall we send for the 
chevalier and bring him back? There is no time to 
be lost; every minute is carrying him away from 
you as fast as a very good pair of legs for running 
can take him.” 

I hope I did not exceed the limits of courtesy in so 
speaking of the chevalier, but it was hard to resist a 
little fling at the “ French gentleman ” to whom the 
“ pretty boy ” had been so disparagingly compared. 
I caught a twinkle in the doctor’s eye and a fleeting 
smile on young Papin’s face and on my captain’s, but 
I looked only at mademoiselle. She was meek enough 
now, but she no longer looked at me; her dark lashes 
were sweeping her cheek. 

“ You need not send for him,” she said. 

“ Then, mademoiselle,” I went on, a little more 
gently, “ it seems to me and to your friends that the 
only other way to return to France is the way we have 
planned. You will be as safe under Captain Clarke’s 
care as you would be under Dr. Saugrain’s. He will 
take you to his sister, Mrs. O’Fallon, who will be as 
a mother to you, until a suitable escort can be found 
for you to New York to place you under Mr. Living- 
ston’s care. As for me, I shall not in any way annoy 
you: you need not know I am on the boat; and as 
soon as you are placed in Mrs. 0 ’Fallon’s care I shall 
say good-by to you forever, and continue my journey 
east, since it is indeed time I should be starting home- 
ward. Dr. and Madame Saugrain will assure you that 


“A PRETTY BOY!” 


179 


this is the most feasible plan, and I hope once more 
that you will not be deterred from accepting it by 
any fear of annoyance from me. There will be 
none. If you decide to go with us, we must make 
an early start, and there will -be many things for me 
to attend to. Captain Clarke will inform me of your 
decision, and I will see Dr. Saugrain and madame 
in the morning. Till then, I wish you all a very good 
night.” 

I made my grand bow, turned quickly, and left the 
room, though Dr. Saugrain and his wife both tried 
to stay me, and young Papin sprang forward with an 
eager hand to prevent me. 

I was bitterly angry, and more hurt and disap- 
pointed than angry. Outside I strode furiously up 
and down in the snow, calling myself a fool that I 
should care. Mademoiselle might be a great lady in 
France, I said to myself, but to me she had shown her- 
self only a fickle, capricious, silly maiden. But even 
as I so spoke to myself my heart revolted. I saw her 
once more weeping in madame ’s arms, and I began to 
think it was only natural and commendable in her that 
she should be so stirred at the thought of leaving 
friends who had been so good to her, and that I had 
been much harder with her than was well. 

And at last, as I began to walk myself into a calmer 
frame of mind, I could have wished that I had not 
made that rash promise to keep myself out of her sight 
on the boat. My word was given and I would have to 
stick to it, but in my own room, as I listened to the 
murmur of voices still going on in the room below me. 


180 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I thought no longer with anger, but sadly enough, of 
the long delightful tete-a-tetes with mademoiselle I 
had dreamed of when I had first planned this trip 
on the Great River. 

A bright drop suddenly fell on my hand. I brushed 
my eyes angrily. 

“ Domtiferation ! ” I whispered furiously to myself. 
4i Mademoiselle was right! A pretty boy indeed! 99 


CHAPTER XIV 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 

u So sweetly she bade me adieu, 

I thought that she bade me return.” 

F OR three days we had been floating down the 
Great River, and for three days I had kept my 
word. Mademoiselle had not been annoyed by me; 
she had hardly seen me. Much to my captain’s vexa- 
tion, I had refused to take my meals with him and 
mademoiselle, though our cozy table of three had been 
one of the brightest parts of my dream when I was 
planning this trip. 

It was nearing the supper-hour on the evening of 
this third day. The men were making ready to tie 
up for the night ( for navigation on the river at night 
was a dangerous matter), and for the hundredth time 
I was wishing with all my heart that I had not been 
so rash as to make that promise to keep out of made- 
moiselle’s way. The vision of a hot supper comfort- 
ably served in her warm and cozy cabin was of itself 
sufficiently enticing, as all my meals since coming 
aboard had been brought to me in any out-of-the-way 
corner of the deck, and I had found them but cold 
comfort. Not that my resolution was weakening, 
181 




182 


THE HOSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


though my captain let no meal-hour pass without 
doing his best to weaken it, and more than once had 
brought me a message from mademoiselle herself beg- 
ging me to join them at table. No ; I was as fixed as 
ever, and, in a way, enjoying my own discomfort, since 
to pose as a martyr ever brings with it a certain 
satisfaction which is its own reward. 

The weather had been clear and mild up to this 
time; but this evening an icy sleet was beginning to 
fall, and I glanced at mademoiselle’s cabin window, 
brightly lighted and eloquent of warmth and dryness, 
and fetched a great sigh as I looked. A voice at my 
elbow said: 

“ Monsieur is sad?— or lonely, perhaps? ” 

I started, for I had supposed myself entirely alone 
on that end of the boat— the men all busy with their 
tying-up preparations forward, and mademoiselle and 
the captain in the cabin. I lifted my hat and bowed 
ceremoniously. 

“ Neither, Mademoiselle .’ 9 * 

Mademoiselle hesitated. I saw she felt repulsed, 
and I secretly gloried in her embarrassment. Neither 
would I help her out by adding another word ; I waited 
for what she might say further. 

“ Monsieur,” she said presently, “ you have shown 
me much kindness in the past, and done me great 
service. I would like to have you know that I am not 
ungrateful.” 

u I do not desire your gratitude, Mademoiselle,” 
I said coldly (though it hurt me to speak so when she 
was so evidently trying to be friendly with me). 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


183 


“ No gentleman could have done less, even if he 
were not a French gentleman.” 

The light from her cabin window fell full upon 
her. I could see that she colored quickly at my retort, 
and half started to go away, but turned back again. 

“ Monsieur,” she said earnestly, “ I have a very 
humble apology to make to you. I hope you will for- 
give me for my rude and wicked speech. I was 
beside myself w T ith sorrow at the thought of being 
so suddenly torn from my friends, and for the time 
nothing else weighed with me, not even that you 
had just saved my life at the peril of your own. Ah, 
how could I have been so base! I wonder not that 
you will not even look at so mean a creature, and you 
do well to shun her as if she were vile.” 

No man could have resisted her sweet humility. 
For a moment all my anger melted. 

“ Mademoiselle, do not apologize to me! ” I cried. 
“ If there are any apologies to be made, it is I who 
should make them for not knowing how to under- 
stand and appreciate what you felt.” 

A quick radiance sprang into her eyes, and with a 
childlike abandon she extended both her hands to me. 

lt Then you forgive me? ” she cried. 

I took one hand and held it in both mine, and as I 
bent my knee I lifted it to my lips. 

“ If I am forgiven, my Queen,” I answered softly. 

Her dark eyes, tender and glorious, looked down into 
mine. For a moment I forgot she was a great lady in 
France ; to me she was only the most bewitching and 
adorable maiden in the wide world. She was wearing 


184 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

a heavy capote to shield her from the weather, but the 
hood had fallen slightly back, and the falling sleet 
had spangled the little fringe of curls about her 
face with diamonds that sparkled in the candle-shine, 
but were not half so bright as her starry eyes. I 
could have knelt forever on the icy deck if I might 
have gazed forever into their heavenly depths. But 
in a minute she let the white lids fall over them. 

“ Rise, Monsieur,” she said gently. “ You are 
forgiven, but on one condition.” 

“ Name it, my Queen! ” And I rose to my feet, 
but still held her hand. “ No condition can be too 
hard.” 

‘ ‘ That you come to supper with us to-night, and to 
every meal while I am on your boat. ’ ’ 

The condition fetched me back to earth with a shock. 
I remembered all the cause, and I answered moodily : 

‘ ‘ My word has been given, Mademoiselle ; I cannot 
go back on my word. ’ ’ 

“ Your word was given to me, and I absolve you 
from it,” she said. 

“ But in the presence of others,” I objected. “ I 
am bound by it, unless I be shamed before them. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Only your captain is here, ’ ’ she said, still gently ; 
“ and he, too, urges it.” 

But still I was obdurate. Then at last she drew 
away her hand and lifted her head proudly. 

“Your Queen commands you!” she said haughtily, 
and turned and walked away. Yet she walked but 
slowly. Perhaps she thought I would overtake her, 
or call her back and tell her I had yielded. But I 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


185 


was still fighting with my stubborn pride, and let her 
go. I watched her close her cabin door, then for five 
minutes I strode rapidly up and down the slippery 
deck. 

“Your Queen commands you!” 1 thrilled at her 
words. My Queen ! Yes, but only if I were her 
king. Now that I was away from her, and her glowing 
eyes were not melting my heart to softest wax, I 
was resolved never again to submit to her tyranny and 
caprice. I would go to supper, because she com- 
manded it; but I would never for a moment forget 
that she was a great lady of France, and I a proud 
citizen of America— too proud to woo where I could 
only meet with scorn. 

So I went to my cabin and made a careful toilet, and 
when Yorke came to call me to supper, I presented 
myself in mademoiselle’s cabin. I had not been in it 
since she had come aboard, and, though I had carefully 
planned and arranged every detail of it for her com- 
fort, I would not have known it for the same place. 
What she had done to it I know not; a touch here, 
a touch there, such as women’s fingers know how to 
give, and the bare and rough boat’s cabin had become 
a dainty little boudoir. The round table, draped in 
snowy linen, with places set for three ; the silver and 
glass shining in the rays from two tall candles; Yorke 
and mademoiselle’s maid Clotilde bringing in each 
a smoking dish to set upon it; and mademoiselle 
standing beside it like the glowing heart of a ruby, 
her dark beauty well set off by a gown of crimson 
paduasoy, with rich lace through which the graceful 


186 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


neck and rounded arms gleamed white and soft : it all 
looked to me like a picture from one of Master Ti- 
tian’s canvases, and I could hardly believe that if I 
should look through the closely drawn curtains I 
would see the rough and dirty decks of our barge, 
and, beyond, the dark forest of the Illinois shore, 
where even now hostile savages might be lurking, 
ready to spring upon us with blood-curdling yells. 

The captain was already there, chatting gaily with 
mademoiselle as I came in, and he had the delicacy to 
make his greeting of me as natural and unsurprised as 
if I had never been absent from the little board, while 
mademoiselle added a touch of gracious cordiality to 
hers. 

I was on my mettle. Determined that never again, 
even to herself, should she call me a boy, I summoned 
to my aid all the savoir-faire I could command. I was 
(at least, in my own estimation, and I hoped also in 
hers) the elegant man of the world, discoursing at ease 
on every fashionable topic, and, to my own amaze- 
ment, parrying every thrust of her keen repartee, and 
sometimes sending her as keen in return. I think the 
situation had gone to my head. Certainly I had never 
before thought myself a brilliant fellow, but when I 
rose to make my bow to mademoiselle (and it was 
indeed a very grand one), I hoped that even in her 
mind I would not suffer by comparison with any 
French gentleman, no, though it were the chevalier 
himself. 

I did not see mademoiselle again until the midday 
meal next day; for all the morning I was busy with 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


187 


the men, making the difficult and dangerous turn 
from the Great River into the Ohio, past Fort Mas- 
sac. Once in the Ohio, there was no surcease from 
hard work— poling, paddling, or cordelling, sometimes 
all three together, to climb the rushing stream. 

Punctually at the noon-hour I presented myself at 
table, and again at supper, and my good star did not 
desert me. Quip and repartee and merry tale and 
polished phrase were all at my tongue’s end, and no 
one could have been more amazed than I at my own 
brilliancy. 

But I lingered not a moment after the meal was 
over, and I never saw mademoiselle between times. 
If she came out to take the air on deck, I was hard 
at work with the men, sometimes taking my turn at 
paddling, sometimes, though not often, at poling ; but 
our crew of French Canadians were better at that 
than I. Indeed, there are no such fellows in the 
world for navigating these dangerous Western waters. 

The weather had grown mild, and often in the even- 
ing I envied Yorke (who had straightway, of course, 
made desperate love to Clotilde, who was old enough 
to be his mother) , sitting in the bow of the boat and 
thrumming his banjo lightly as he sang her some cre- 
ole love-song he had picked up in St. Louis. 

Our trip was fast drawing to a close. The last even- 
ing on the river had arrived. We would tie up one 
more night ; all hands at the cordelle and the poles, we 
would reach Mrs. 0 ’Fallon’s by noon, in time for 
dinner. I had determined not to linger there at all. 
I should go on, the same afternoon, to my uncle’s 


188 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


plantation, not many miles away, and the next day 
start for the East. I had told mademoiselle I would 
say good-by to her forever when we reached Mrs. 
0 ’Fallon’s, but in my own mind I was saying good- 
by to her now. It had been for several days that 
I had felt the weight of this approaching hour, and 
my brilliance had gradually departed. I had grown 
duller and quieter at each succeeding meal, and made- 
moiselle, too, had grown quieter (she could never be 
dull). Sometimes I fancied she looked sad, and once 
I was sure I recognized the trace of tears in her beau- 
tiful eyes. There was nothing strange in that; it 
would have been strange indeed if she could have left 
home and friends, and started on a long and danger- 
ous journey (with no companion but the faithful ne- 
gro woman who had been nurse and lady’s-maid and 
trusted friend for ten long years, but who was still 
but servant and slave), and had not often been over- 
come with sadness. Indeed, there were times, when 
she was merriest at the table, when I had mentally ac- 
cused her of heartlessness as I thought of the two 
fond old people mourning for her in Emigre’s Retreat. 
So, though I would have liked to attribute some of 
mademoiselle’s sadness to an approaching separa- 
tion, I had no grounds for so doing, and I scoffed at 
myself for the attempt. 

That last night at supper I made a desperate effort 
to be my gayest, but it was uphill work, and the more 
so because neither the captain nor mademoiselle sec- 
onded my efforts with any heartiness ; so when supper 
was ended, feeling that the hour had at last come, I 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


189 


stood as mademoiselle rose from her seat, and instead 
of excusing myself at once, as had been my custom, I 
lingered. 

“ Mademoiselle/ ’ I said, “we have had our last meal 
aboard together (God prospering our voyage), and I 
desire to thank you for your courtesy, and to say to 
you that whatever there may have been in our inter- 
course during our brief acquaintance not pleasant to 
either of us to hold in remembrance, I hope you will 
banish it from your memory, as I shall from mine. I 
shall think of these weeks always as among the bright- 
est of my life, and perhaps, had I been a chevalier of 
France instead of an American boy, I should not so 
easily have said good-by to the Rose of St. Louis; it 
would have been au revoir instead ! ’ ’ 

I was standing as I said it all formally, with the air 
of one making pretty compliments : for I did not wish 
mademoiselle to know how every word was from the 
depths of my heart ; nor would I have lightly betrayed 
myself before my captain, who was not apparently 
listening, but had turned to give some instructions to 
Yorke. 

Mademoiselle’s color came and went as I spoke. 
She did not answer me for a moment, and when she 
did it was in a low tone, and she seemed to speak with 
effort : 

“ Monsieur, you are ungenerous! You will never 
forgive my unhappy speech. Permit me to say you 
have taught me that a chevalier of France may be 
outshone by an American gentleman in bravery, man- 
liness, truth, and honor— in every virtue except the 


190 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


doubtful one of knowing how to utter pleasant insin- 
cerities to us maidens. And I will not say good-by. 
Am I not to see you again ? ’ ’ 

“I will certainly see you in the morning, Mademoi- 
selle, but there may be no time for more than a word, 
and so I take this opportunity to say good-by.’ ’ 

“I will not say good-by, Monsieur”— with the old 
wilful toss of the head. “I will tell your captain he 
is not to let you go back to Philadelphia so soon. But 
no matter where you go, I will never say good-by ; it 
shall always be au revoir . 9 9 

She smiled up at me with such bewitching grace 
that perforce I smiled back at her, and if she had but 
asked me this evening, as she had on many others, to 
linger in her cozy cabin for a game of piquet, I would 
not have had the courage to say no. But she did not 
ask me, and, much as I longed to stay, there was no- 
thing for me to do but to pick up my hat and say, 
with the best grace I could : 

‘ ‘ I thank you with all my heart, Mademoiselle, and, 
for to-night at least, au revoir!” 

An hour later my captain and I were leaning on the 
rail in the stern of the boat, looking up at the tree- 
crowned bluffs standing dark against the moonlight 
and listening to the soft lapping of the water against 
the boat’s sides. We did not realize that we were hid- 
den by a great pile of peltries, as high as our heads, 
which Captain Clarke was taking back to Kentucky 
wfth him to sell on commission for Pierre Chouteau, 
until we heard voices. Mademoiselle and Clotilde had 
evidently found a seat on the other side of the pile of 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


191 


pelts, and mademoiselle was speaking in plaintive 
tone : 

4 ‘And they would not let me bring Leon with me! 
He at least would have loved me and been a companion 
and protector when all the world forsake me.” 

Then Clotilde ’s rich negro voice: 

“Mademoiselle, I find out why they not let you 
bring Leon. Mr. Yorke tell me last night. Leon shot, 
the night before we come away.” 

There was a heartrending cry, and then a torrent of 
swift French : 

“Leon shot! My Leon! Why have they not told 
me ? Oh, the villains ! Who shot him, Clotilde ? My 
poor angel ! My Leon ! No one left to love your poor 
mistress!” And much more that I cannot recall, I 
was so excited and angry that that rascal Yorke should 
have caused her such needless pain. But every word 
of Clotilde’s next speech was graven on my heart as 
with a knife of fire. 

“Mr. Yorke say they all hear the shot, and they all 
run out to see what the matter, and there stood the 
lieutenant with pistol in his hand, and Yorke say he 
don’ think he shoot him, but — ” 

Clotilde had no chance to say another word. 

“Shoot my Leon! He! Ah, I could not have be- 
lieved such baseness ! He never forgave him for 
throwing him down-stairs! His last act before leav- 
ing Emigre’s Retreat! Oh, mon Dieu, what perfidy! 
What a monster!” 

And every word was so interrupted with sighs and 
moans and sobs as would have melted a heart of stone. 


192 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


As for me, I was nearly turned to stone, such horror 
did I feel that she should think me guilty of so base a 
deed. I had no thought of acting in my self-defense, 
but my captain started up at once with a quick excla- 
mation, and, seizing my arm, dragged me around the 
pile of pelts. There was mademoiselle, seated on a 
low bundle of them, weeping as if her heart would 
break, and Clotilde trying in vain to stay the torrent 
she had set loose. 

“ Mademoiselle/ ' said the captain, quickly, c 4 there 
has been some terrible mistake. It was the chevalier 
who shot Leon; it was this lad” (laying his arm affec- 
tionately across my shoulders) “who saved his life.” 

Now half the joy of this speech to me was taken out 
of it by the captain's way of treating me as a boy— I 
think the captain never thought of me in any other 
light; and I made up my mind on the instant that I 
should seize the very first opportunity to beg him, at 
least in mademoiselle's presence, to treat me as a man. 

But mademoiselle was so concerned with the matter 
of the captain's speech, she paid no heed to its man- 
ner; and it chagrined me not a little that her first 
thought was for Leon, and not that I was innocent. 

“Saved his life!” she cried. “Is my Leon alive?” 

“He is, Mademoiselle,” I said coldly, “and I have 
every reason to believe he is doing well. My Hast act' 
before leaving Emigre's Retreat was to visit him in 
Narcisse's cabin. I renewed his dressing, and left 
minute instructions as to his care. We had thought to 
spare you this anxiety, Mademoiselle, but two blun- 
dering servants have undone our plans.” 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


193 


“Ah, Monsieur/ ’ cried mademoiselle, impetuously, 
springing to her feet and extending both her hands to 
me in her pretty French fashion, “how unjust I have 
been to you ! How can I ever thank you enough for 
your care of my poor Leon ? Your last act in the cold 
and dark of the early morning, and the hurry of de- 
parture, to see that my Leon was taken care of, and I 
have accused you of making it one of base revenge! 
Ah, Monsieur, can you ever forgive me?” half whis- 
pering. 

I had taken her hands and was holding them as I 
looked down into her radiant eyes. I bent low and 
kissed them both, first one and then the other, as I said 
(very low, so that the captain and Clotilde should not 
hear) : 

“Mademoiselle, I can forgive you everything. ’ ’ 

But I needed not to speak so low, for when I lifted 
my head the captain and Clotilde had both disap- 
peared. And whither they had gone, or why, I neither 
knew nor cared. For now a mad intoxication seized 
me. This was the last evening I should ever spend 
with mademoiselle in this world; why should I not 
enjoy it to the full? For the hundredth time we had 
had our misunderstanding and it had cleared away; 
now there should be no more misunderstandings, no 
more coldness, nothing but joy in the warm sunshine 
of her smiles. 

So I begged her once more to be seated and to atone 
for all that was unkind in the past by letting me talk 
to her. There could have been no better place, outside 
of her cozy cabin, for this long-dreamed-of tete-a-tete, 

13 


194 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


which now at last was to have a realization, than this 
she had herself chosen. The pile of pelts at her back 
kept off the east wind, the young moon in the west 
shone full upon her face, so that I could feast my eyes 
upon its glorious beauty (for the last time, I said to 
myself) and interpret every changing expression. 

And yet, just at first. I was afraid I was going to 
be disappointed, after all. Mademoiselle was embar- 
rassed and constrained, and it was I— I, the gauche 
and unsophisticated “boy”— who had to gently dis- 
arm her fears and lead her back to her bright and 
natural way. And this is how I did it. Mademoiselle 
had seated herself at my request, almost awkwardly, 
if awkwardness were possible to her, so much afraid 
was she she was not doing quite the proper thing. 

“I cannot imagine what has become of Clotilde,” 
she said nervously. ‘ ‘ I did not send her away. ’ * 

“I think she has gone to find Yorke and set him 
right about Leon, ’ ’ I answered, smiling. 

She smiled slightly in return, but still with some 
embarrassment. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “have you observed that 
Yorke has been making himself very agreeable to Clo- 
tilde ?” 

“What folly!” she exclaimed. “Clotilde is an old 
woman. I spoke to her about it quite seriously to- 
day.” 

“And what did she say, Mademoiselle?” 

“She said that she found Yorke most entertaining. 
6 One must be amused, ’ were her words, and she made 
me feel very young with her worldly wisdom. ‘We 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


195 


do not contemplate matrimony, Mam’selle, but Mr. 
Yorke and I both think there may be an affinity of 
spirit, regardless of difference in age’! I was amazed 
at her philosophical attitude/ ’ 

“How did you reply to her, Mademoiselle V 9 

“She quite took my breath away, but I only said, 
c Clotilde, you will oblige me by seeing as little as pos- 
sible of Yorke on the remainder of the trip/ I had 
fully intended to keep her with me this evening, and 
now she has slipped away. I think I ought to go and 
find her,” half rising as she spoke. 

“By no means,’ ’ I answered quickly. “Indeed, I 
am quite on Clotilde ’s side.” 

“On Clotilde ’s side! Impossible, Monsieur! Such 
arrant nonsense ! ’ 9 

All this time I had been standing, for from a maid- 
enly shyness (rather new in her, and which I liked) 
she would not ask me to sit beside her, and there was 
no other seat. Now I said : 

“ Mademoiselle, if you will permit me to share your 
bundle of pelts, I believe I can prove to you that it is 
not such arrant nonsense, after all.” 

“Certainly, Monsieur,” a little stiffly; “I am sorry 
to have kept you standing so long.” 

She drew her skirts a little aside, and I sat down, 
quite at the other end of the bundle of pelts, but 
nearer to her than I had been in many long days. 
Then, in a purposely didactic and argumentative way, 
I cited to her all the instances in history I could think 
of, winding up with Cleopatra and Ninon de l’Enclos, 
until by entering into the argument she had entirely 


196 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


forgotten herself and her embarrassment. Then sud- 
denly into a little break in our conversation there came 
the clear whinny of Fatima. She was on the other 
boat, tied close to ours, and as we were in the stern 
and she in the bow, she had no doubt heard her mas- 
ter’s voice and was calling him. I was greatly 
tempted to call her by the whistle she knew, but I did 
not quite dare. She would have broken all possible 
bounds to come to me in answer to that whistle, and 
I would not have been surprised to see her clear the 
space between the two boats. 

‘ ‘ That was Fatima , 9 9 mademoiselle said, and sighed 
a little. 

“Yes,” I said, “and I think I could tell what your 
sigh meant.” 

“Did I sigh?” 

“Yes, and it meant, ‘I wish it were Leon.’ ” 

“Yes,” she said; “I was thinking how much Fa- 
tima loves you, and Leon, too, as soon as he was able 
to forgive your disgracing him so. I think all dogs 
and horses love you, Monsieur . 9 9 

“That is because I love them, Mademoiselle.” 

“Does love always beget love?” 

“Not always, Mademoiselle; sometimes it begets 
scorn.” 

“Then I suppose the love dies?” 

“No, Mademoiselle; unhappily, it but grows the 
stronger . 9 9 

“That is folly, is it not?” 

“Mademoiselle, if you will allow me to be a philoso- 
pher like Clotilde— love has no regard for sense or wis- 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


19 ? 


dom, else would Yorke love one of his own age, and I 
would love one of my own country and my own rank.” 

She said not a word for a long time, but sat with 
downcast eyes. Suddenly she lifted them, and they 
shone with a softer radiance than I had ever seen in 
them before. 

“Of what were you thinking, Mademoiselle?” I 
said gently. 

She hesitated a moment, and then like the soft sigh 
of a zephyr came her words : 

“I was wishing you were a chevalier of France.” 

“And I, Mademoiselle, was wishing you were a 
maiden of St. Louis, as I supposed you were when I 
first saw you.” 

“I would not have been of your country, even 
then, ’ ’ she said, with delicious shyness, half looking at 
me, half looking away in pretty confusion. 

“Not now, but you soon would be. St. Louis will 
belong to us some day.” 

“Never!” She spoke in hot haste, all the patriot 
firing within her, and looking full at me with flashing 
eyes. 4 ‘ St. Louis will be French some day, as it used 
to be, I believe with all my heart; but American, 
never !” 

“Mademoiselle, we had a wager once. Shall we 
have one more ? ’ ’ 

“Is it that St. Louis will one day be American?” 

“Yes.” 

“Iam very willing to wager on that, for it is a cer- 
tainty for me. What shall be the stakes ? 9 9 

“Mademoiselle, they would be very high.” 


198 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“I am not afraid.” 

I thought for a moment, and then I shook my head. 

‘ 4 Mademoiselle, I dare not. I am sure St. Louis will 
one day be ours, but the time may be long, and by that 
day the worst may have happened. You may have 
found your chevalier of France. ’ ’ 

She looked up at me in a quick, startled way, which 
changed gradually to her old proud look. 

4 ‘Monsieur, I know not what stakes you had in 
mind, but this I know : if ’t were a lady’s hand it were 
unworthy you and her. A lady’s hand is for the win- 
ning by deeds of prowess or by proof of worth, not by 
betting for it as though ’twere a horse or a pile of 
louis d’or.” 

“Mademoiselle,” I cried in an agony of shame, 
“forgive me, I beg. Forgive a poor wretch who saw 
no chance of winning by prowess or worth, and who 
was so desperate that he would clutch at any straw to 
help him win his heart’s desire.” 

Her look softened at once, and when she spoke again 
’twas in her gentlest tones. 

“Monsieur,” she said, “to-morrow we part, and it 
would seem there is but little chance that we shall see 
each other again in this world. Fate has placed our 
lots on different continents, with wide seas between. 
But for to-night let us forget that. Let us think we 
are to meet every day, as we have met in these weeks, 
and let us have a happy memory of this last evening 
to cherish always. ’ ’ 

I could not speak for a moment. Her voice, its 
sweet tones breaking a little at the last, unmanned me. 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


199 


1 turned away my head, for I would not let her see the 
workings of my face, nor my wet eyes, lest she think 
me boyish again. It was the sealing of my doom, but 
I had known it always. And there was a drop of 
sweet amid the bitter that I had never dared hope for. 
She, too, was sad— then she must care a little. In a 
minute I was able to turn toward her again and speak 
in a firm, low voice. 

“You are right, Mademoiselle; we will be happy to- 
night. Come,” I said, rising and extending my hand 
to her, “let us go watch the revelers on the other boat; 
they, at least, are troubled by no useless regrets.” 

She put her hand in mine, and we went back by 
the stern rail and stood watching the scene below us. 

A plank had been thrown from one boat to the 
other to make easy communication, and the crew of 
our boat, with the exception of the two left always 
on guard, had crossed over. They had cleared a space 
for dancing, and lighted it by great pine-knots cut 
from the forest close by. Yorke, set high on a pile of 
forage with his beloved banjo, was playing such music 
as put springs into their heels. Canadians and negroes 
were all dancing together— the Frenchmen with grace- 
ful agility, the negroes more clumsily, even gro- 
tesquely, but with a rhythm that proved their musical 
ear. Clotilde and a negress cook were the only women, 
and greatly in demand by both Frenchmen and ne- 
groes. Clotilde rather scorned partners of her own 
color, and was choosing only the best-looking and the 
best dancers of the white men, with a caprice worthy 
of her mistress, I thought, and probably in imitation 


200 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


of her. Yorke did not seem to mind, but with the gay- 
est good humor called out the figures as he played. 
Suddenly, as he wound up the last figure with a 
grand flourish, he beckoned to a little Canadian who 
had been specially agile in the dance, and they held a 
whispered consultation. Then Yorke resigned his 
banjo to him, and, leaping down into the middle of the 
floor, seized Clotilde about the waist without so much 
as saying “By your leave / 9 and shouted: 

“Choose partners for a waltz !” 

Consternation followed, for not more than half a 
dozen had ever seen the new French dance. But when 
the little Canadian started up with his witching trois- 
temps y Yorke and Clotilde glided off rhythmically to 
its strains, the half-dozen followed, more or less skil- 
fully, and the rest stood round gazing in respectful 
admiration. 

Now I had learned the waltz at home in Philadel- 
phia, but it had never been danced at the St. Louis 
parties, and I knew not whether mademoiselle knew 
the step or not. Yet was I seized with a great desire 
to follow Yorke ’s example. 

“ Mademoiselle/ ’ I said timidly, “why cannot we 
have a dance here ? See, there is a clear space on the 
deck, and the music is good.” 

“I waltz but poorly, Monsieur,” she answered, look- 
ing up at me with a bright blush. “Madame Saugrain 
taught me the step, but I have practised it but 
little.” 

‘ ‘ Then we will be the better matched, ’ ’ I answered 
gaily. But when I had put my arm around her waist, 


A CREOLE LOVE-SONG 


201 


and one of her beautiful hands rested on my shoulder, 
and I held the other in my firm clasp, I was seized 
with such trembling at my boldness in daring to hold 
her so near that almost my feet refused to move. Yet 
as soon as we were both gliding to the Canadian’s 
music there was no longer any fear in my heart, only 
a great longing that the music might never cease and 
that we could go on forever circling to its strains. 
Wild thoughts whirled in my brain. Why need made- 
moiselle go back to Paris? I believed, as I bent my 
head and looked into her dark eyes uplifted to mine, 
that only a little persuasion would be needed to make 
her give it all up. And I said to myself, “I will try.” 

But the music stopped. Mademoiselle gently with- 
drew herself from my encircling arm, and suddenly 
cold reason returned. How could I dream of betray- 
ing Dr. Saugrain’s trust! How could I think of per- 
suading her to relinquish the glories awaiting her for 
me ! And, most of all, how could I dare to think she 
could be persuaded ! 

Mademoiselle had thrown off her capote before be- 
ginning to dance; I picked it up and put it around 
her, and led her back to her seat on the pelts. But she 
would not sit down. 

“No, Monsieur,” she said; “our evening is over. I 
am going to my cabin. Will you send for Clotilde and 
tell her that I want her?” 

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!” I cried, my heart 
in my mouth to beg her not to leave me without one 
word of hope. But then I stopped. It was all over; 
the world had come to an end. 


202 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“It is good-by, then, Mademoiselle V 9 I said stead- 
ily, and holding out my hand to her. 

“No, Monsieur/ ’ she said, with that voice that from 
the first time I heard it had ever seemed to me the 
sweetest in the world. “ ’T is au revoir— iou jours, 
ton jours au revoir!” 

I watched her close her cabin door and turned back 
to my place by the rail, black despair in my heart, but 
just one little ray of hope brightening it— her coura- 
geous au revoir. Over the plank came Yorke and Clo- 
tilde, and strolled slowly up the deck together, Yorke 
thrumming his banjo and singing a creole love-song 
he had learned in St. Louis : 

“ Tons les printemps 
Tan ? de nouvelles, 

Tous les amants 
Changent de maitresses. 

Qu’ils changent qui voudront, 

Pour moi, je garde la mienne.” 

Insensibly my heart lightened. 4 ‘Pour moi, je garde 
la mienne , 9 7 I said aloud, and added in a whisper : 

“Yes— though I must first win her, and win I 
will ! ? ' 


CHAPTER XV 


“au eevoir” 


4t While memory watches o’er the sad review 
Of joys that faded like the morning dew.” 

I T was a busy morning that followed— no time for 
idle thoughts or vain regrets. If we were to dine 
with Mrs. 0 'Fallon at Mulberry Hill, all hands must 
work hard. 

A line of ten men with the cordelle was attached to 
each boat to pull it up the stream, and at the same 
time ten more on each boat planted the great pole at 
the bow, and then, pushing on it, walked back to the 
stern, lifted it out of the soft mud, carried it forward 
to the bow, planted it again in the mud, and, pushing 
mightily, again walked back to the stern. In this way 
we made great progress. We moved as fast as the ten 
men on shore carrying the cordelle could walk, and 
the men at the pole lightened their load so greatly, 
they were able to walk at a good round pace. 

So it was not yet quite noon when the white walls of 
Mulberry House came in view, the blue smoke curling 
from its chimneys giving promise of good cheer await- 
ing us. The men at the cordelle walked faster, the 
men at the pole pushed harder, and, there being here 
203 


204 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


a chance to use them, two great sweep-oars were fas- 
tened in the rowlocks, and, four men at each oar, we 
went forward at such a gait that the water curled back 
from our prow in two foaming streams, and before 
many minutes we were running our nose into the bank 
at the foot of Mulberry Hill. 

Down the bank came a long line of men and boys, 
chiefly negroes, shouting in every key, and running to 
catch the ropes our crew were throwing them, and ty- 
ing us fast to big stumps left standing on the bank for 
that purpose. 

Foremost to step foot on board was young John 
O’Fallon, running first to greet his uncle William, 
whom next to his uncle General Clarke he thought the 
greatest man on earth, and then coming to greet me, 
whom he called “cousin” in his kindly Southern fash- 
ion, for I could not claim to be kin. He was a bright, 
engaging lad of twelve or thirteen, “with the manners 
of a chevalier of France, ’ ’ I said laughingly to made- 
moiselle, when my captain was bringing him up to pre- 
sent to her. She was greatly taken with him at once, 
and as for him, ’t was a case of love at first sight, and 
he took full possession of her, giving me small chance 
to help her off the boat or up the hill. 

At the top of the hill, Aunt Fanny, as his mother al- 
ways insisted I should call her, was waiting for us. 
She kissed me on each cheek and called me “my boy” 
in a manner that made me feel very young indeed. 
Much as I loved her, I could have wished that in made- 
moiselle ’s presence she had treated me as one too old 
for such gracious liberties. But mademoiselle seemed 


“AU RE VOIR” 


205 


not to notice her greeting to me ; she had eyes only for 
the beautiful and charming woman and her manly 
little son. Indeed, I felt so much left out in the cold 
(for, after the manner of women, the two instantly 
made violent love to each other) that I was not sorry 
to find letters awaiting me from my uncle, inclosing 
letters from home that required my instant attention. 
When I had read them I knew not whether to be sorry 
or glad. I had fully intended to make no stay at all at 
Mulberry Hill, but go on at once to my uncle’s; but 
now that there w T as no chance left me,— that marching 
orders I dared not disobey ordered me East at once,— 
I realized that lurking in the depths of my heart had 
been a secret hope that something would happen to 
delay me longer in mademoiselle ’s society. 

I was at once busy with preparations for a more 
hasty departure than I had expected, so that I saw 
neither Mrs. O’Fallon nor mademoiselle again until 
we were seated at the long table in the great dining- 
room overlooking the river, which here makes a wide 
and graceful sweep to the south. The warm winter 
sun was flooding the room through its many windows, 
lighting up the table with its brave show of silver and 
glass and snowy linen, and by its cheery glow warm- 
ing all hearts and setting all tongues free, so that there 
was a pleasant confusion of talk, such as a hostess 
dearly loves. It was a bright and happy scene, and 
every face was smiling and every heart was gay save 
one; for I could not hope that mademoiselle’s bright 
smile and beaming glance disguised another aching 
heart. 


206 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I was seated at Mrs. 0 ’Fallon’s left hand; a Mr. 
Thruston, whom I had never met, but who was evi- 
dently paying earnest court to the charming widow, 
was on her right ; and mademoiselle was almost at the 
other end of the long table, between Captain Clarke 
and young John— about as far from me as possible, 
which, since it was to be our last meal together, I felt 
to be a distinct grievance. But as no one was to blame 
but Aunt Fanny, and she had set me beside her to do 
me honor, I could not well find fault. 

It was in response to her asking me to show some 
little courtesy to Mr. Thruston after dinner (I do not 
now recall what) that I told her I must set out on my 
journey as soon after dinner as I could start. Her 
short, sharp exclamation of surprise and displeasure 
caught the attention of all the table. 

“Brother William, do you hear that?” she called to 
my captain. “Our kinsman leaves us immediately.” 

Aunt Fanny spoke with her knife poised in air. A 
noble great bird, a wild turkey, was on the platter be- 
fore her, oozing a rich brown gravy from every pore. 
With a deftness I have never seen equaled, she had 
been separating joints and carving great slices of the 
rich dark meat, sending savory odors steaming up into 
my nostrils. Now, as she paused in her work to make 
her announcement, there arose instantly a chorus of 
remonstrances, loudest from young John and his 
younger brother Ben. I answered them modestly, I 
hoped, looking at everybody except mademoiselle, 
who yet, I saw distinctly, turned very pale, then red, 
then pale again. 

I addressed myself directly to Captain Clarke : 


“AU RE VOIR” 


207 


“My uncle has forwarded me letters from home, 
requiring my presence there as shortly as possible. 
The letters do not enlighten me as to the reasons for 
haste, and I am naturally beset with some misgivings, 
but I hope all is well with my family. ” 

My captain smiled inscrutably. 

“Set your anxieties at rest, my lad. I also found a 
letter awaiting me from your father. It explains the 
reasons for haste, but wishes them kept from you for 
the present ; but they are of the most agreeable nature, 
and all is well at home.” 

I was greatly relieved, and so expressed myself. 

“But why start immediately V 9 my captain con- 
tinued. “You will have to wait for a boat, and the 
waiting had best be done here.” 

“I have found one, sir,” I answered. “It is ex- 
pected up the river this afternoon, and goes as far as 
Clarksville. My instructions are to go by way of 
Washington, and call on Mr. Jefferson, so nothing 
could suit me better, for I find the road from Clarks- 
ville to Washington is comparatively short, and the 
boat is a small keel-boat and likely to make good 
time.” 

“Well, well!” said my captain, pleasantly, “you 
must have been hard at work to find out all this be- 
tween landing and dinner; but I know the reasons for 
haste are imperative, and you are quite right to set 
off at once . 9 ’ 

Then suddenly mademoiselle spoke up : 

“Mon Capitaine, if monsieur is going just where I 
must go, why do not I and Clotilde go with him?” 

There was a moment's embarrassing silence, and 


208 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


then I, feeling the silence unbearable and a great dis- 
courtesy to mademoiselle, answered her. 

“Mademoiselle, nothing could give me greater plea- 
sure if my captain and Aunt Fanny think it could be 
arranged. But I fear the route would be a hard one 
for a lady’s traveling, since the boat goes only to 
Clarksville, and from there to Washington there is 
but a bridle-path, and a very rough one.” 

Then everybody broke forth at once, volubly : 

“Oh, no, no, no! We cannot think of letting you 
go!” 

“Indeed, miss,” said Aunt Fanny, in her pretty im- 
perious way, “you may think yourself fortunate if 
you get away from here any time in the next two 
months. We do not get hold of a lovely young lady 
visitor very often, and when we do we mean to keep 
her as long as we can. And here is my son J ohn over 
head and ears in love.” (Young John blushed like a 
peony.) “Would you break his heart, madam? And 
Ben is no better” (for Ben had been slyly laughing 
at his brother’s discomfiture, but now looked very silly 
indeed as he took his share of his mother’s tongue- 
lash). “You will be having my family at loggerheads 
if you stay, no doubt, but stay you must, for now that 
we have once seen you, there is no living without 
you.” 

Mademoiselle took the speech adorably (as I knew 
she would, though I doubt whether she understood 
half of it), smiling and blushing, and saying in her 
pretty baby-English that they were very good to her, 
and she would not break “Meester Jean’s” heart, no, 


AU KEVOIR ” 


209 


nor “Meester Ben’s”; she would stay with “dear 
madame. ’ ’ 

If I did not thereupon fetch a long and deep sigh 
from the very bottom of my boots, it was not because 
it was not there to fetch, as I thought of all I was 
missing in not spending a happy two months with 
mademoiselle under Aunt Fanny ’s delightful roof. 

But I had short time to indulge vain regrets. We 
were in the midst of dessert, a huge bowl of steaming 
punch brewed by Aunt Fanny before our eyes, and a 
great Christmas cake, which she said she had saved 
for our home-coming, when a small negro burst open 
the door in great excitement. 

“Hi, Miss Fanny, she ’s cornin’ !” 

“Who ’s coming, Scipio? And where are your 
manners? Go tell your mother if she doesn’t teach 
you how to come into a room properly, I will have to 
take you in hand.” 

It was a terrible threat, and had been many times 
employed— always successfully, for “Miss Fanny” 
never did “take in hand” the small darkies, and so, 
having no notion of what taking in hand might mean, 
all the terrors of mystery were added to their fears. 
Young Scipio was greatly abashed, and pulled his 
forelock respectfully as he answered Mrs. 0 ’Fallon’s 
question. 

“It’s de boat, missus; she’s cornin’ roun’ de 
ben’.” 

In a moment all was confusion. There was no time 
to be lost. Yorke was despatched to get together my 
belongings, see that they were carried to the landing, 


210 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and himself lead Fatima down the bank ,and on to the 
boat ; for to no other would I trust my beauty. The 
boat by this time had nearly reached the landing, and 
there was a hurry of good-bys, Aunt Fanny shedding 
tears of vexation that my visit should be so short, and 
calling me her 4 ‘ dear boy, ’ ’ and kissing me and scold- 
ing me in one breath. 

She and mademoiselle walked as far as the top of 
the bluff with me (I would not let them come farther, 
for the bank was steep and muddy), and then I said 
my good-by to mademoiselle. I raised her hand to my 
lips as I said it, and she looked straight into my eyes 
with eyes that shone with something brighter than 
smiles as she answered : 

“Au revoir, monsieur !” 

The captain of the keel-boat was shouting to us to 
make haste, and there was no time for another word ; 
and I was glad to have it so, for another word might 
have made me indeed the boy Aunt Fanny was always 
calling me. 

The two boys, Mr. Thruston, and my captain went 
down to the boat with me (which proved to be a more 
comfortable one than I had dared to hope for), and 
Fatima having been coaxed aboard and quarters 
found for her in a warm shed, and my captain pressing 
my hand with an affectionate “ Good-by, dear lad,” 
that was once more near to my undoing, we were un- 
tied, and the men at the poles pushed hard and walked 
rapidly back to the stern, and the men at the cordelle 
pulled all together, with a long-drawn “ Heave, ho, 
heave !” and we were off. 


“AU RE VOIR” 


211 


I stood in the stern watching the two figures on the 
bluff until one of them went away and there was only 
one, slender and of but little stature, with soft dark 
curls, and eyes whose tender glow I could feel long 
after the figure was but one indistinct blur, with a 
white hand waving farewell. 

Then came another bend in the river and shut her 
from my sight. And there 'was naught left to me of 
Mademoiselle Pelagie but a memory of tears and 
smiles ; of hard words and gentle ones ; of cold looks 
and kind ones; of alternate hopes and fears on my 
side; of scorning and— yes, I believed it with all my 
heart— of scorning and loving on hers. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A VIRGINIA FARMER 

“ Statesman, yet friend to truth ! of soul sincere^ 

In action faithful, and in honour clear.” 

W HAT, Fatima ! Yon refuse ? ’ ’ 

I dismounted and led her carefully down the 
steep bank and on to the ferry-boat. She followed me 
very willingly, but I stood with my arm over her glossy 
neck, for I saw she eyed the water distrustfully, and 
while I had no fear of her being disobedient to my 
word of command, I knew it would comfort her to feel 
my arm about her neck. She neighed her appreciation, 
and gently rubbed her nostrils against my side, ever a 
token of affection with her. When the boai began to 
move, the two stalwart negroes pulling at their great 
oars and chanting dismally in time to their pulling, 
Fatima again showed signs of excitement, but I easily 
quieted her, and then I had leisure to use my eyes. 

This crossing the Potomac to Washington reminded 
me vividly of crossing the Mississippi to St. Louis 
more than three months before. Nor did the capital 
look more impressive at this distance than the vil- 
lage of St. Louis. Both were embowered in trees, and 
but for the two imposing white buildings,— the Presi- 
212 


A VIRGINIA FARMER 


213 


dent’s Palace and the Capitol,— Washington was much 
the less prepossessing village of the two, and I thought 
how much more worthy was our own city of Philadel- 
phia to be the capital of the nation. 

Indeed, when I had led Fatima off the ferry, she 
sank over her fetlocks in mud, and I had to lead her 
some distance before I found ground firm enough to 
warrant my mounting her, lest my weight should make 
the poor creature flounder hopelessly in the mire. 

I bore in my pocket a letter from Captain Clarke 
introducing me to Mr. Meriwether Lewis, which he 
had written at Mulberry Hill, after the boat that was 
to bear me away was in sight, and also an address 
he had given me of a respectable innkeeper where I 
might find lodging. The inn was my first quest, and 
that once found and a suitable toilet made, I was 
eager to present my letter of introduction, and, if 
chance favored me, meet the President also. 

It was still early, and the road I found myself 
upon (for it could not be called a street, since there 
were no pavements and only at long intervals a house) 
was filled with a well-dressed throng all wending their 
way in one direction. It seemed to me too early an 
hour for gentlemen to be seeking a place of amuse- 
ment, and too late and the throng too generally well 
dressed to be on their way to business. Some were in 
coaches, with coachmen in livery on the box and foot- 
men standing up behind, and some were on horseback 
and some on foot, but all, or nearly all, were wearing 
silk stockings and fine ruffled shirts and carefully pow- 
dered queues and shining shoe-buckles. 


214 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

A little stretch of brick sidewalk gave an air of dis- 
tinction to a solidly built two-story house with slop- 
ing roof and dormer-windows, and in front of the 
house, on a stool planted on the curb, sat an old negro, 
bandy-legged, with snowy wool, industriously polish- 
ing a row of shoes neatly arranged in front of him, 
and crooning happily a plantation melody as he 
worked. I drew Fatima to the curb. 

“Good morning, uncle,” I said as the negro slowly 
lifted his head, bowed over his brush. “Can you tell 
me who all these people are and where they are go- 
ing?” 

“Mohnen, marsa,” the negro returned politely, and 
then looked at me with round-eyed astonishment. 
“Yo’ dunno whar they ’s gwine? Why, sah, dey ’s 
de Senatahs and Represenatahs, sah, and dey gwine to 
de Cap’tul, sah.” 

Of course ! It was very stupid of me not to have 
thought of it. The negro evidently thought so, too, 
but a sudden excuse suggested itself to him. 

“Mought yo’ be a stranger in Washington, sah?” 
with a glance of such undisguised pity for any bar- 
barian who did not know the capital that I felt myself 
coloring, and to recover my self-respect assured him 
that I had set foot in this “domtiferous” mud-hole 
for the first time just fifteen minutes before. 

He was greatly impressed with my emphatic word, 
and addressed me with much-increased respect. 

“Den, sah, if I might be so libertious, p’r’aps yo’ 
like me to p’int out de ’stinguished gen’lemen.” 

Nothing could have pleased me better, and I drew 


A VIRGINIA FARMER 


215 


Fatima still closer to the curb while Bandy Jim— for 
that, he said, was his name— proceeded to point out 
the celebrities. 

There was passing at that moment a very elegant 
coach, with mounted postilions in pink plush and gold 
lace, and an exceedingly handsome man with an aristo- 
cratic face leaning back among the cushions, his eyes 
half closed, as if mentally conning a speech for deliv- 
ery in Congress. Bandy Jim did not wait for the eager 
question on the tip of my tongue. 

“Dat, sah, is de welfiest and most ’stocratic gen’le- 
man in Washington. Dat am Mistah Gubernoor Mor- 
ris of de gre’t city of New York. I ’low he studying 
dis minnit on a speech ’bout de Mississippi Riber and 
dem Spanish men.” 

I looked at him again, more eagerly than before. I 
knew Gouverneur Morris well by reputation, though 
I had never seen him, as one of the most polished and 
scholarly men of the country, and the devoted friend 
of Hamilton, whom I idolized as all that was brilliant, 
great, and noble. But my eagerness was largely due 
to Bandy Jim’s suggestion that they were discussing 
the Mississippi question in Congress, and as I looked 
more keenly I hoped he was on the right side, for 
I thought that broad white brow could think great 
thoughts and those clear-cut lips could utter them 
with force. 

“Why do you think it will be on the Mississippi this 
morning, uncle?” I inquired, amused that the old 
darky should seem to know the doings in Congress. 
“Do you go up to the Capitol to listen to the debates?” 


216 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“Sometimes, sah, but mos’ly I reads dem in de 
‘Post,’ sah!” And the proud air with which he let 
me know of his unusual accomplishment beggars de- 
scription. 

“And so you can read, Uncle? And who taught 
you ? ’ ’ 

“Ole Miss, sah. I ’s a free nigger, sah. Ole Miss 
gib me my papers so I mought stay wid my fambly 
when she follow de gin’ral and his father to Mulberry 
Hill in Kaintuck’.” 

I confess Bandy Jim seemed like an old friend at 
once when I found he had belonged to the Clarkes, and 
in my delight at seeing “one of the family” in a 
strange land, I slipped from Fatima’s back and 
grasped him by the hand. 

When he found I was just from Kentucky and Mul- 
berry Hill, he was more excited than I, and especially 
was he eager for news of “Marse William.” 

“He mah baby, sah!” he repeated over and over, 
his old eyes shining with visions of other days. 

“An’ Yorke, sah,— you know Yorke?— he mah 
son ! ’ ’ with great dignity and much evident pride in a 
son of such distinction. 

I had many things to tell him of Yorke ’s prowess 
and address that pleased the old fellow greatly. I 
might also have recounted the many times when I 
had had all the will in the world to horsewhip the 
rascal, but I did not distress his old father with any 
of his shortcomings. 

The morning was fast slipping away when I be- 
thought me it was time to be looking up my lodging 


A VIRGINIA FARMER 


217 


and making myself ready for my call at the Presi- 
dent’s Palace. I flung Bandy Jim a piece of gold 
and told him I would see him again. And then as I 
was in the act of mounting Fatima it occurred to me 
he could no doubt direct me. 

“Can you tell me how to find the Mansion House, 
Uncle?” 

“Right here, sah,” grinning with delight; and sure 
enough, what had seemed to me the home of some 
respectable citizen proved to be mine inn. And a 
very good one indeed ; for when Bandy Jim had called 
a boy to lead Fatima around the house to the stables 
in the rear, and another to take me in to the landlord, 
I found myself in as clean and comfortable a hostelry 
as one could hope to find. My chamber was a large 
square one, on the second landing, and from its 
windows I could catch glimpses through the bare 
trees of the white building on the hill that I knew was 
the Capitol. 

And when a boy had brought my saddle-bags, 
Bandy Jim himself hobbled in to help me dress. He 
had been body-servant to both General Clarke and 
his father, and, old as he was, bent nearly double and 
dim of sight, his fingers were skilled for lacers and 
laces, for buckles and ribbons. 

I thought I looked quite as a gentleman should for a 
morning call at the “White House,” for that, I under- 
stand, is what Mr. Jefferson prefers to have the 
President’s Palace called. Indeed, I have heard he 
very vehemently objects to having it called a palace at 
all. I was wearing a plain cloth habit o*f dark green 


218 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


with no lace at wrist or knee and only a small lace tie 
at the neck. My shoe-buckles were of the plainest 
silver, but Bandy Jim had polished them till they 
shone like new. I had some thoughts of deferring 
my visit until later in the day, when I might with a 
good grace have worn satin and velvet and fine lace 
ruffles, for I am afraid I was something of a beau in 
those days in my liking for dress. But bethinking me 
that the plainness of my costume would only be an ad- 
ditional recommendation in the eyes of the President, 
should I have the good fortune to meet him, I set off 
on Fatima’s back, following the straight road, as 
Bandy Jim had directed. 

A more forlorn village it has rarely been my lot to 
see: stretches of mud road with neither houses nor 
fields to outline it, and then for a block or more bare 
and ugly houses, hideous in their newness, not having 
even the grace of age to soften their ill proportions. 
I was glad mademoiselle was not there to gaze upon 
the capital of America with eyes that knew so well how 
to be scornful, and that would so soon find her own 
gay French capital so beautiful. 

I was in the very act of saying to myself for the 
twentieth time, “ Idiots and dolts, not to have se- 
lected beautiful Philadelphia for a nation’s capital!” 
when there rode up beside me a farmer in plain, al- 
most rough, clothes, but riding a magnificent horse. 
He was about to pass me (for I was riding slowly, 
out of respect to the mud, which might easily have be- 
spattered me so that I would be in no condition for a 
call), but I hailed him: 




A VIRGINIA FARMER 


219 


“Are you going my way, my friend ?” 

“If you are going mine. ,, 

“I am going straight ahead to the President’s Pal- 
ace.’ ’ 

“And I to the White House, sir.” 

“Then our ways lie together. Are you acquainted 
in Washington?” 

“Somewhat, sir.” 

I began to think this rather a surly farmer, he 
was so chary of words, so I looked at him more nar- 
rowly. But I saw nothing surly in his face. Indeed, 
at a second glance, I decided it was as fine a face, its 
features as clearly chiseled, as one often sees, and 
the eyes, beneath the broad white brow, were full, 
open, and benignant. 

“He is no ordinary farmer,” I said to myself, “but 
most like a wealthy Virginia planter of education and 
social standing, but careless in matters of dress.” 
Therefore I addressed him with a shade more of re- 
spect than I had hitherto used : 

“I am a stranger in Washington, sir,” I said, “and 
if you are better acquainted here, I thought perhaps 
you would be so good as to tell me something of the 
city.” 

He unbent immediately, and not only pointe 
every object of interest on the road, but in a 
delicate and gentlemanly manner proceeded also to 
pump me as to my name and errand in Washington. 
I was not more amused at his curiosity than at the 
skilful method he employed in trying to satisfy it, but, 
as I flattered myself, I gave him but little satisfaction. 



220 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


In reply to some question of mine about the debate 
in Congress on the Mississippi question, he gave me 
such a masterly exposition of the whole subject, so 
clearly and concisely put into a nutshell, I began to 
think my eccentric planter was a political genius, pos- 
sibly a member of Congress, though if so I thought 
his horse was headed the wrong way. 

But evidently I had lighted unwittingly upon a rich 
mine of information. It was never my way to neglect 
my opportunities, and I began at once to ply him 
with questions about men and things in Washington. 
Last of all, I asked him about Mr. Jefferson. 

Now my family was not of Mr. Jefferson’s party: 
we were ardent admirers and strong partizans of Mr. 
Hamilton. Not that we had any fault to find with 
Mr. Jefferson, except for his quarrel with Hamilton. 
But bethinking me that it was quite possible my 
planter might be a “Democrat,” as Mr. Jefferson calls 
his party, I spoke guardedly, I thought. 

“Can you tell me something of the President, sir? 
Do you admire him ? And is it true he is such a sloven 
in dress as they say he is?” 

I could not tell from his face whether he were 
Democrat or Whig, for it changed not a whit. He 
answered readily: 

“T know Mr. Jefferson quite well. I can hardly say 
whether I admire him or not, but I like him. In fact, 
he is quite a friend of mine. As to his being a sloven 
in dress, is that what they say about him ? He dresses 
as well as I do: would you call that being a sloven? ” 

“Not at all, sir, not at all!” I answered quickly; 


A VIRGINIA FARMER 


221 


but to myself I said, “If he dresses no better, God help 
us!” I added aloud: 

“I hope, sir, what I have said about the President 
has not offended you, since he is a friend of yours. I 
have never seen him, and was only repeating the gen- 
eral report.” 

The stream of people that had been setting eastward 
earlier in the morning had ceased entirely. We had 
ridden on some distance without meeting any one, but 
at this moment we met two gentlemen on horseback, 
and both took off their hats and kept them off until 
we had passed. I thought it probable that from my 
fine clothes (which, though plain, were of undeniable 
elegance) they took me for a stranger of distinction, 
and I bowed most graciously in return. My farmer 
friend but touched his hat with his riding-whip, and 
then pointed off through the woods to where we 
could see the chimneys of a large house, on the banks 
of the river. 

“That,” he said, “is Mr. Law’s mansion. You may 
have heard of him ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes,” I answered; “he married Miss Custis, 
and I used to know her quite well, when we were both 
children.” 

We mounted a little elevation in the road, not enough 
to be called a hill, but enough to give a more extended 
view over the wide acres of brick-kilns and huts of 
laborers and dismal waste land unfenced and uncul- 
tivated. To the east, in the direction of the Capitol, 
he pointed out the towers of Doddington Manor, the 
house of Daniel Carroll. We had passed so many 


222 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


houses that seemed to me but little more than hovels 
or barracks that it was a relief to me to see from 
Mr. Law’s and Mr. Carroll’s places that there were 
some gentlemen’s residences in the capital. When I 
said something of the kind to my guide, he replied, 
with some asperity, that there were many gentlemen’s 
residences at Alexandria and Arlington and George- 
town, only a short gallop away, and that it would not 
be many years until Washington itself could claim as 
many as New York or Philadelphia. 

I saw he was one of those violent partizans of the 
“ten-mile square” (probably because his farm lay 
somewhere near), so discreetly turned the discourse, 
since I did not want to bring up the vexed question of 
the superior merits of New York, Philadelphia, and 
the ten-mile square as a seat for the capital. 

By this time the President’s Palace was in full view, 
and a beautiful building it was, looking very large 
and very white, and, it must be confessed, very bare, 
since there were no gardens surrounding it, nothing 
but mud in front and marsh behind, between it and 
the Potomac. % 

Fatima picked her way daintily through the mud, 
often half stopping for better footing (as if she knew 
she must not bespatter me when I was going to call 
\ at the President’s house), and by that means the 
! farmer’s powerful horse (who seemed not to mind the 
! mud, knowing there was no finery to be hurt by it) 

, got well ahead. I was myself so much engaged with 
the badness of the road that I did not, for a few min- 
utes, look up. When I did, I observed that two order- 



i( ‘ Welcome to the White House ! ; ” 




A VIRGINIA FARMER 


223 


lies were holding the farmer’s horse, from which he 
had just dismounted, while the farmer himself stood 
on the steps awaiting my approach. One orderly led 
his horse away as I rode up, but the exclamation of 
disgust for the mud that rose to my lips never passed 
them. As I glanced up at this “ farmer” in cordu- 
roy small-clothes, red plush waistcoat, rough riding- 
boots splashed with mud, he had suddenly grown tall 
and majestic. 

“ Orderly, take this gentleman’s horse to the sta- 
ble!” he said, with an air of command, and then 
turned to me with stately dignity. 

1 ‘ Welcome to the White House, my young Phila- 
delphia friend,” he said, and smiled. 

For my confusion knew no bounds. I was never 
quick where a puzzle or trick was concerned, but now 
it slowly dawned upon me that my farmer friend 
was the President of the United States! and I had 
been criticizing him to-his face, and talking flippantly 
to him, and even superciliously. My consternation 
grew; I knew not what was the proper thing to do, 
but I stammered out the most abject apology I could 
think of. 

Mr. Jefferson only laughed at my confusion. 

“Come, come, sir,” he said genially, “there is no 
great harm done. Don’t you suppose I know what 
people say of me? You were only repeating the 
‘ general report, ’ you know. ’ ’ And then he added seri- 
ously, as he saw my confusion was but increased by his 
raillery : 

“Where no offense is intended, sir, none is taken. 


224 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I beg yon will enter the White House, and I will send 
my secretary to you, Mr. Meriwether Lewis. ’ ’ 

As he spoke he led the way into the house and into a 
very large and beautiful room, with a full-length por- 
trait of General Washington on the walls. 

“I shall hope to see you later,” he said pleasantly 
as he left me ; * ‘if I mistake not, I have some communi- 
cations of interest for you.” Then he turned and 
went up the grand staircase and left me alone to my 
miserable pastime of recalling every word and every 
incident of that wretched ride to the White House, 
and from not one of them could I extract an atom of 
comfort to soothe my wounded self-esteem. 


I 


CHAPTER XVII 


A GREAT DEBATE 

They “of the western dome, whose weighty sense 
Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.” 

I HAD been so abashed by my wretched mistake 
that I had not so much as told the President who I 
was (though, truth to tell, he had not asked me, and it 
would have been only another impertinence on my 
part to have volunteered the information) . Yet as I 
sat waiting for young Mr. Lewis, and reviewing in my 
mind the miserable events through which I had just 
passed, it suddenly occurred to me as very remarkable 
that Mr. Jefferson should have known I was from 
Philadelphia, w T hen I thought I had been so particu- 
larly skilful in betraying no fact concerning myself. 
Moreover, he had not only guessed I was from Phila- 
delphia; he must have guessed my identity also, for 
he had “communications of interest” for me. 

My curiosity was now so thoroughly aroused, both 
as to how the President knew me and what his commu- 
nications might be, that it began to efface the keenness 
of my mortification. In the midst of my wondering 
surmises, Mr. Lewis appeared and greeted me most 
affably; and when I had presented Captain Clarke’s 
15 225 


226 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


letter of introduction, he was, if possible, more affable 
still. He was an older-looking man than I had ex- 
pected to see, and with so much of seriousness in his 
countenance, and yet of such frankness and earnest- 
ness in his manner, that it drew my interest and liking 
at once. 

He was the bearer of a very polite message from the 
President, inviting me to dinner at the White House 
at four o’clock that afternoon; and then he proposed 
that we should set out at once for the Capitol, where, 
as he said, a debate of special interest was on the cal- 
endar. 

I was much touched at the generosity of Mr. Jeffer- 
son in returning my discourtesy to himself by so cour- 
teously placing his secretary at my disposal for my 
entertainment, and nothing could have pleased me 
better than Mr. Lewis’s proposal. It had been my in- 
tention to visit the Capitol as soon as this visit of cere- 
mony should be performed, but to visit it with a guide 
so much at home as the President ’s secretary was good 
luck indeed. 

I thought it still better luck when I found that, by 
Mr. Jefferson’s special invitation, we were to sit in a 
small gallery set aside for the President and his 
friends, and to which a guard in uniform admitted us 
with a key. I was much impressed by the exterior of 
the Capitol (though in such an unfinished state), but 
when I found myself seated in the seclusion of the 
President’s ow T n private gallery, looking down upon 
the horseshoe of grave and distinguished senators, I 
could have wished that one of the ladies (of whom 


A GREAT DEBATE 


22V 


there were a number in the gallery opposite, and who 
cast many inquisitive glances at the two young men in 
the President’s box) might have been Mademoiselle 
Pelagie, for I felt sure she would never again think of 
me as a boy, could she but see me in my present digni- 
fied surroundings. 

But it was only for a moment that my attention was 
distracted by the ladies and by thoughts of mademoi- 
selle. A gentleman was speaking (Mr. Lewis told me 
it was Mr. Ross of Pennsylvania) in a most impas- 
sioned manner, and the magic word “Mississippi” 
caught my ear and charmed my attention. Mr. Ross 
was saying : 

“To the free navigation of the Mississippi we have 
undoubted right, from nature and also from the posi- 
tion of our Western country. This right and the right 
of deposit in the Island of New Orleans were sol- 
emnly acknowledged and fixed by treaty in 1795. 
That treaty has been in actual operation and execu- 
tion for many years, and now, without any pre- 
tense of abuse or violation on our part, the offi- 
cers of the Spanish government deny that right, re- 
fuse the place of deposit, and add the most offensive 
of all insults by forbidding us from landing on any 
part of their territory and shutting us out as a com- 
mon nuisance. I declare it, therefore, to be my firm 
and mature opinion that so important a right will 
never be secure while the mouth of the Mississippi is 
exclusively in the hands of the Spanish. Prom the 
very position of our country, from its geographical 
shape, from motives of complete independence, the 


228 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


command of the navigation of the river ought to be 
in our hands. 

“We are now wantonly provoked to take it. Hos- 
tility in its most offensive shape has been offered us, 
and hostility fatal to the happiness of the Western 
World. Why not seize, then, what is so essential to 
us as a nation? Why not expel the wrong-doers? 
Paper treaties have proved too feeble. Plant your- 
selves on the river ; fortify the banks ; invite those who 
have an interest at stake to defend it. Do justice to 
yourselves when your adversaries deny it, and leave 
the event to Him who controls the fate of nations ! 9 ’ 

Ah, how his words burnt my brain ! I was for leav- 
ing Mr. Lewis in the President’s gallery, running 
down to the great entrance where I had left Fatima 
in charge of a negro boy, mounting her, and riding 
straight back to Kentucky. Once there, I was sure it 
would be an easy matter to raise a company of eager 
patriots and march at their head down the Great River 
to the hostile city. But Mr. Ross had not finished, and 
I could not lose a word of his impassioned speech : 

“Why submit to a tardy and uncertain negotiation 
—a negotiation with those who have wronged you? 
When in possession you will negotiate with more ad- 
vantage. You will then be in the position to keep 
others out. The present possessors have no pretense 
to complain, for they have no right to the country, by 
their own confession. 

“The Western people will discover that you are 
making every effort they could desire for their protec- 
tion. They will ardently support you in the contest, 


A GREAT DEBATE 


229 


if a contest becomes necessary. Their all will be at 
stake, and neither their zeal nor their courage need be 
doubted. 

“But after negotiations shall have failed; after a 
powerful, ambitious nation shall have taken possession 
of the key of their AVestern country and fortified it; 
after the garrisons are filled by the veterans who have 
conquered the East: will you have it in your power 
to waken the generous spirit of the West and dis- 
possess them? No, no; their confidence in you as 
their rulers will be gone; they will be disheartened, 
divided, and will place no further dependence upon 
you.” 

At this moment two officers in uniform entered the 
Senate, preceding a gentleman who carried on a cush- 
ion a document. Immediately the President of the 
Senate, Mr. Burr (a man whom I had been reared to 
dislike and distrust above all men, and whose enmity 
for Mr. Hamilton was sufficient cause to make me his 
foe, yet whose attractive personality, seeing him for 
the first time, I could not deny), called the house to 
order, and requested Mr. Ross to defer the completion 
of his speech until a message from the House of Rep- 
resentatives should have been read. 

I was all curiosity, for it seemed to me an imposing 
ceremony and one that must be of great moment. But 
I was doomed to disappointment. The gentleman 
bearing the document said something in a low tone to 
the clerk, who repeated it to Mr. Burr. AVhereupon 
Mr. Burr rose in his seat. 

“Gentlemen of the Senate,” he said, “the House of 


230 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Representatives sends you a confidential message. 
Sergeant-at-arms, clear the house!” 

Mr. Lewis rose at once, and signaled to me to follow, 
which I did, very unwillingly. Outside in the corri- 
dors he said : 

“I think this will be but a brief secret conference 
—most like we can return in a few minutes; and I 
will employ the interim in showing you the building. ’ ’ 

From his manner I thought he must know the sub- 
ject of the secret conference, as, indeed, being the 
President’s private secretary, he would have every 
means of knowing. But he gave me no hint of it, and 
it was not until long afterward that I learned that in 
the half-hour we were shut out the Senate had con- 
firmed the House bill to place two million dollars at 
the President’s disposal to commence with more effect 
a negotiation with France and Spain for the purchase 
of the Isle of New Orleans and the East and West 
Floridas. 

When the doors were opened again, and we were 
back in our seats in the President’s gallery, we found 
Mr. Ross already on his feet, continuing his inter- 
rupted speech, and evidently the sentences I first 
heard were in reference to the bill just passed. 

“ I know,” he said, “that some gentlemen think 
there is a mode of accomplishing our object, of which, 
by a most extraordinary procedure, I am forbidden to 
speak on this occasion. I will not, therefore, touch it. 
But I will ask honorable gentlemen, especially those 
from the Western country, what they will say, on 
their return home, to a people pressed by the heavy 
hand of this calamity, when they inquire : What has 


A GREAT DEBATE 


231 


been done ? What are our hopes ? How long will this 
obstruction continue? You answer: We have pro- 
vided a remedy, but it is a secret ! We are not allowed 
to speak of it there, much less here. It was only com- 
municated to us confidentially, in whispers, with 
closed doors. But by and by you will see it operate 
like enchantment. It is a sovereign balsam which 
will heal your wounded honor; it is a potent spell, 
or a kind of patent medicine, which will extinguish 
and forever put at rest the devouring spirit which has 
desolated so many nations of Europe. You never can 
know exactly what it is; nor can we tell you pre- 
cisely the time it will begin to operate : but operate it 
certainly will, and effectually, too ! You will see 
strange things by and by; wait patiently, and place 
full faith in us, for we cannot be mistaken ! 

“This idle tale may amuse children, but the men of 
the West will not be satisfied. They will tell you that 
they expected better things of you, that their confi- 
dence has been misplaced, and that they will not wait 
the operation of your newly invented drug ; they will 
go and redress themselves ! 5 ’ 

Then Mr. Ross proceeded to read a series of resolu- 
tions he had drawn up, the most important part of 
them being to authorize the President to take imme- 
diate possession of the Isle of New Orleans, and to 
raise a militia army not exceeding fifty thousand men 
in the Western States, to cooperate with the army and 
navy of the Union ; and that the sum of five millions 
of dollars should be appropriated to carry out these 
resolutions. 

They took my breath away. “What would I not 


232 


THE ROSE OP OLD ST. LOUIS 

give to be back in Kentucky!” I whispered to Mr. 
Lewis, in irrepressible excitement. 

“Calm yourself, my young friend,” he whispered 
back. “War is not declared yet. Listen to this next 
speech ; it is Mr. White from Delaware. See whether 
he supports or opposes the resolutions. 

His opening sentence answered the question : 

“As to the closing of the port of New Orleans 
against our citizens, the man who can now doubt that 
it was a deliberate act of the Spanish or French gov- 
ernment must have locked up his mind against truth 
and conviction, and be determined to discredit even 
the evidence of his own senses. But, sir, it is not only 
the depriving us of our right of deposit by which we 
have been grieved : it is by a system of measures pur- 
sued antecedent and subsequent to that event, equally 
hostile and even more insulting. I have in my hand a 
paper signed by a Spanish officer, which, with the in- 
dulgence of the chair, I will read to the Senate. 

Then he read a paper signed by Carlos de Grand- 
pre, warning the subjects of his Majesty of Spain that 
they were to have no communications with America, 
and couched in the most insulting terms. My blood 
boiled as I listened ! 

“These,” said Mr. White, “are the measures that 
have been’ adopted by the Spaniard, excluding us from 
their shores for a distance of two hundred and seventy- 
miles, treating us like a nation of pirates and banditti. 
Would the great Washington have permitted such an 
insult had he still been with us? Spain has dared us 
to the trial, and now bids us defiance. She is yet in 


A GREAT DEBATE 


233 


possession of that country ; it is at this moment within 
your reach and within your power. It offers a sure 
and easy conquest. We should have to encounter 
there only a weak, inactive, and unenterprising peo- 
ple. But how may a few months vary the scene and 
darken our prospects ! Though not officially informed, 
we know that the Spanish provinces on the Mississippi 
have been ceded to the French, and that they will, as 
soon as possible, take possession of them. What may 
we then expect? When, in the last extremity, we 
shall be drawn to arms in defense of our indisputable 
rights, where now slumbers on his post the sluggish 
Spaniard we shall be hailed by the vigilant and alert 
French grenadier ; and in the defenseless garrison that 
would now surrender at our approach we shall see 
unfurled the standards that have waved triumphant 
in Italy, surrounded by impregnable ramparts and de- 
fended by the disciplined veterans of Europe. I am 
willing to attribute to honorable gentlemen the best 
of motives ; I am sure they do not wish to involve this 
country in a war— and, God knows, I deprecate its 
horrors as much as any man. But this business can 
never be adjusted abroad ; it will ultimately have to be 
settled upon the banks of the Mississippi ; the war is 
inevitable unless honorable gentlemen opposed to us 
are prepared to yield up the best interest and honor 
of the nation. I believe the only question now in our 
power to decide is, whether it shall be the bloodless 
war of a few months or the carnage of years. 

“ These observations are urged upon the supposition 
that it is in the power of the government to restrain 


234 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

the impetuosity of the Western people and to prevent 
their doing justice to themselves, which, by the by, I 
beg to be understood as not believing. They know 
their own strength; they know the feebleness of the 
enemy ; they know the infinite importance of the stake, 
and they feel— permit me to say, sir, with more than 
mere sensibility— the insults and injuries they have 
received. You had as well pretend to dam up the 
mouth of the Mississippi, and say to its restless waves, 
‘Ye shall cease here and never mingle with the ocean,’ 
as to expect they will be prevented from descending it. 

“Without the free use of the river and the necessary 
advantage of deposit below our line, their fertile coun- 
try is not worth possession; their produce must be 
wasted in the field or rot in the granary. These are 
rights not only guaranteed to them by treaty, but also 
given to them by the God of nature, and they will en- 
force them, with or without the authority of govern- 
ment ! ’ ’ 

This long speech (and I have not remembered half 
of it) was interrupted by frequent bursts of applause, 
and when Mr. White sat down, it was amid such en- 
thusiasm of cheering as quite carried me off my feet. 

“Was there ever such a speech?” I shouted into 
Mr. Lewis’s ear, for the noise was deafening. “That 
will surely win the day. ’ ’ 

“Wait,” he shouted back, “until you hear the other 
side. That is Mr. Jackson of Georgia trying to get the 
floor, and, if I mistake not, he will be in opposition, 
and he is a strong speaker, with plenty of caustic 
wit. ” % 


A GREAT DEBATE 


235 


Mr. Jackson began to speak with so slow a drawl 
and in such low tones that at first I hardly thought 
him an adversary to be dreaded. But as he warmed 
to his work I changed my mind. 

“What is the course,” he began, “which we have 
to pursue? Is it to go immediately to war without 
asking for redress? By the law of nations and the 
doctrines of all writers on such law, you are not justi- 
fied until you have tried every possible method of ob- 
taining redress in a peaceable manner. It is only in 
the last extremity, when you have no other expedient 
left, that a recourse to arms is lawful and just, and I 
hope the United States will never forfeit their char- 
acter for justice by any hasty or rash steps which they 
may, too late, have to repent of. 

“Sir, we have been told much, by the gentleman 
from Delaware, of Bonaparte : that he is the hero of 
France, the conqueror of Italy, the tyrant of Ger- 
many, and that his legions are invincible. We have 
been told that we must hasten to take possession of 
New Orleans whilst in the hands of the sluggish Span- 
iards, and not wait until it is in the iron grip of the 
Caesar of modern times. But much as I respect the 
fame and exploits of that extraordinary man, I be- 
lieve we should have little more to fear from him, 
should it be necessary in the end to contend with him 
for the possession of New Orleans, than from the slug- 
gish Spaniards. Bonaparte, sir, in our Southern 
country would be lost with all his martial talents. 
His hollow squares and horse artillery would be of 
little service to him in the midst of our morasses and 


236 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


woods, where he would meet, not with the' champaign 
country of Italy,— with the little rivulets commanded 
by his cannon which he could pass at leisure,— not 
with the fortified cities which command surrounding 
districts, but with rivers miles wide, and swamps 
mortal or impenetrable to Europeans. With a body 
of only ten thousand of our expert riflemen around 
him, his laurels would be torn from his brow, and he 
would heartily wish himself once more on the plains 
of Italy. 

“The sacred name of Washington has been un- 
necessarily appealed to on this as on many other occa- 
sions, and we have been boastingly told that in his 
time no nation dared insult us. Much, sir, as I re- 
vere his memory, acknowledging him among the fa- 
thers of his country, was this the fact? Was he not 
insulted? — was not the nation insulted under his ad- 
ministration? How came the posts to be detained 
after the definitive treaty with Great Britain ? What 
dictated that inhuman deed to stir up horror and de- 
struction among us— Lord Dorchester’s insolent and 
savage speech to the hordes of Indians on our fron- 
tiers to massacre our inhabitants without distinction ? 
Were those not insults? Or have we tamely forgotten 
them? Yet, sir, did Washington go to war? He did 
not; he preferred negotiation, and sent an envoy to 
Great Britain. Peace was obtained by a treaty with 
that nation. Shall we, then, not negotiate ? Shall we 
not follow the leading feature of our nation’s policy? 
We are all actuated, I hope, by one view, but we dif- 
fer in the means. Let us show the nations of the 


A GREAT DEBATE 


237 


earth we are not anxious for war, that scourge of 
mankind ; that we bear patiently our injuries, in hope 
of redress. 

“But, sir, if forced to war, contrary to our policy 
and wish, let us unsheathe the sword and fling away 
the scabbard until our enemies be brought to a sense 
of justice and our wrongs be redressed/ * 

Now to every word of this speech I had listened 
breathlessly. There was a ring in Mr. Jackson's voice 
as he warmed to his theme, and his long body swayed 
in the power of his own eloquence, that moved me 
mightily, though I wished not to be moved. 

I scarcely listened to the gentleman that followed 
(a Mr. Cocke from Tennessee), so intently was I re- 
viewing Mr. Jackson's ringing sentences, and won- 
dering if, after all, he was right, and all the brave 
Kentuckians who had been so loud in their demands 
for war were wrong. But one or two sentences of Mr. 
Cocke caught my ear ; I heard him say : 

“We were told by Mr. Ross that we were bound to 
go to war for this right which God and nature had 
given to the Western people. What are we to under- 
stand by this right given by God and nature ? Surely 
not the right of deposit, for that was given by treaty, 
and as to the right of navigation, that has been neither 
suspended nor brought into question. But we are 
told by the same gentleman that the possession of New 
Orleans is necessary to our complete security. Leav- 
ing to the gentleman's own conscience to settle the 
question as to the morality of taking that place be- 
cause it would be convenient, I beg to inform him that 


238 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

the possession of it would not give us complete se- 
curity. ’ ’ 

What further Mr. Cocke said I do not know, for at 
that moment Mr. Lewis whispered to me : 

“Do you know the lady in the gallery opposite? 
She has been for some time covertly regarding one of 
us, and I think it must be you. Do not look at her just 
now ; look at the right-hand gallery, and then gradu- 
ally let your glance come around to the lady wearing 
a black lace veil beside the pillar in the front row 
opposite.” 

I did as Mr. Lewis instructed— letting my glance 
finally fall in the most casual manner where he indi- 
cated. But as I did so my heart gave a great bound. 
Could that be Mademoiselle Pelagie ? The pose of the 
head, the dark eyes seen dimly through the lace veil, 
the little ringlets in the neck, were hers; but after a 
moment I convinced myself that it w T as only a chance 
resemblance. I had left Mademoiselle Pelagie in Ken- 
tucky not three weeks before, with no intention of 
coming to Washington, but of going direct to New 
York as soon as suitable escort could be found. It 
would hardly be within the bounds of possibility that 
she should be in Washington as soon as I. It was 
true I had been detained somewhat on the route, once 
by losing my way, and once by Fatima laming her 
foot and causing me to spend two days with a Virginia 
planter while she recovered sufficiently to permit our 
resuming our journey. But still I could not believe 
mademoiselle could have accomplished such a journey 
so quickly, and when I had left her there had been a 


A GREAT DEBATE 


239 


small prospect of an escort to New York, but none at 
all to Washington. 

So I told Mr. Meriwether Lewis that the lady did 
indeed remind me of one I knew, but as she was at 
that moment (I had every reason to believe) safe with 
Mrs. 0 'Fallon at Mulberry Hill, it was impossible that 
it could be she. Then, though much disturbed by this 
chance resemblance and the thronging memories it 
awakened, I addressed myself once more to the debate. 

I was just in time to see rising to his feet the hand- 
somest man in the Senate, as I had long before de- 
cided. Mr. Gouverneur Morris, with his clean-cut, 
aristocratic features, his carefully curled peruke, his 
fine lace ruffles falling over his long white hands, and 
his immaculate stockings and pumps with their glit- 
tering buckles, was, to my mind, every inch the gentle- 
man, and quite worthy to have called himself a blue- 
blooded Philadelphian, but that an unkind fate had 
given him New York for a birthplace. I was more 
than curious to know on which side he would be, and 
his opening sentence filled me with the assurance he 
was on the right side and every word was weighted. 
Clear-cut, each sentence dropped from his lips like a 
string of burnished jewels. 

4 ‘ Had Spain the right to make this cession to France 
without our consent? Gentlemen 'have taken it for 
granted that she had. But I deny the position. No 
nation has a right to give to another a dangerous 
neighbor without her consent. He who renders me 
insecure, he who hazards my peace and exposes me to 
imminent danger, commits an act of hostility against 


240 THE ROSE OP OLD ST. LOUIS 

me and gives me the rights consequent on that act. 
Suppose Great Britain should give to Algiers one of 
the Bahamas, and contribute thereby to establish a 
nest of pirates near your coast. Would you not con- 
sider it as an aggression? It is among the first limi- 
tations to the exercise of the rights of property that 
we must so use our own as not to injure another, and 
it is under the immediate sense of this restriction that 
nations are hound to act toward each other. 

‘ ‘ The possession of Louisiana by the ambitious ruler 
of France would give him in the New World the pre- 
ponderance he has already obtained in the Old. It 
becomes the United States to show that they do not 
fear him who is the ruler of all ; and it specially be- 
hooves the young and growing republic to interpose, 
in order to revive the energy and resistance of the 
half-conquered nations of Europe, and to save the 
expiring liberties of mankind!” 

No one can imagine the fire, the grace, the inspiring 
tones and gestures, with which this last sentence was 
uttered. In my enthusiasm I looked across to my fair 
neighbor in the opposite gallery for sympathy. 
Through the veil I thought I caught her eye ; but by 
the slightest turn of her head and an almost impercep- 
tible movement of her hand she conveyed to me (whe- 
ther intentionally or not, I was not sure) that she 
was not at all in sympathy with the speaker— indeed, 
that she disagreed with him wholly. 

I looked down again into the arena below me. 
Slowly rising from his seat was a figure as ungainly as 
the other had been elegant. Red of face, with features 


A GREAT DEBATE 


241 


almost coarse, and unwieldy from too great a burden 
of flesh, I recognized at once Mr. Morris's colleague, 
the famous Mr. Clinton of New York. What he said 
pleased me no more than his appearance, yet I could 
but own that no speaker had spoken with more force, 
more caustic satire, or more fluent eloquence. I had 
to admit, also, that there was a flavor of good sense 
and practicability about much that he said, though 
I was loath to admit it. He began ponderously, with 
pompous tones; but as he went on his voice changed 
until it became at times high and even rasping. 

“Sublime, sir, as these speculations may appear 
to the eyes of some, and high-sounding as they may 
strike the ears of many, they do not affect me with any 
force. In the first place, I do not perceive how they 
bear upon the question before me; it merely refers 
to the seizure of New Orleans, not to the maintenance 
of the balance of power. Again, of all characters, I 
think that of a conquering nation least becomes the 
American people. What, sir ! Shall America go 
forth, like another Don Quixote, to relieve distressed 
nations and to rescue from the fangs of tyranny 
the powerful states of Britain, Spain, Austria, Italy, 
the Netherlands'? Shall she, like another Phae- 
thon, madly ascend the chariot of Empire, and 
spread desolation and horror over the world? Shall 
she attempt to restrain the career of a nation, which 
my honorable colleague represents to have been ir- 
resistible, and which he declares has appalled the 
British lion and the imperial eagle of the house of 
Austria? Shall we wantonly court destruction and 
16 


242 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


violate all the maxims of policy which ought to gov- 
ern infant and free republics ? Let us, sir, never carry 
our arms into the territory of other nations, unless 
we are compelled to take them up in self-defense. A 
pacific character is of all others most important for 
us to maintain. With a sea-coast of two thousand 
miles, indented with harbors and lined with cities, 
with an extended commerce, and with a population 
of only six millions, how are we to set up for the 
avenger of nations'? Can gravity itself refrain itself 
from laughter at the figure which my honorable col- 
league would wish us to make on the theater of the 
world? He would put a fool’s cap on our head and 
dress us up in the parti-colored robes of a harlequin 
for the nations of the world to laugh at. And after all 
the puissant knights of the times have been worsted in 
the tournament by the Orlando Furioso of France, we 
must then, forsooth, come forward and console them 
for their defeat by an exhibition of our follies ! 

“I look, sir, upon all the dangers we heard about 
the French possession of Louisiana as visionary and 
idle. Twenty years must roll over our heads before 
France can establish in that country a population of 
two hundred thousand souls. What, in the meantime, 
will become of your Southern and Western States? 
Are they not advancing to greatness with a giant’s 
stride? The Western States will then contain on their 
borders millions of free and hardy republicans, able 
to crush every daring invader of their rights!” 

There was a slight stir in the gallery opposite. I 
looked up to see the figure in black rising from her 


A GREAT DEBATE 


243 


seat. But even as I looked I thought I caught a direct 
glance from the dark eyes, and I could almost have 
sworn there was a slight wave of the hand as if in 
parting salute to me. Her companion, an older lady, 
rose with her, and together they turned and left the 
gallery. Once more I was struck by the startling 
resemblance to Mademoiselle Pelagie in every move- 
ment, and in the outlines of the graceful figure. I 
heard nothing more Mr. Clinton had to say; I was 
lost in an abstracted reverie as to the possibility of its 
being mademoiselle in the flesh. I would have liked 
to propose to Mr. Lewis that we go out and follow the 
mysterious figure, but cold reason assured me that 
mademoiselle was many miles away, and it was 
but a fond fancy that pictured her image in every 
dark-eyed maiden, and so shamed me from such a 
foolish pursuit. 

“ Shall we go?” said Mr. Lewis. “ There will be 
no vote— probably none for a week at least.” 

I started from my reverie to find the debate over, 
the Senate adjourned, floor and gallery rapidly clear- 
ing. I answered with alacrity, hoping he had not 
discovered my abstraction: 

“By all means. It has been a grand occasion, and I 
am much indebted to you, sir, for giving me the op- 
portunity of hearing so great a debate.” 

Through the long corridors I hurried Mr. Lewis, 
eagerly scanning the throng for a glimpse of that 
figure, which I hoped we might overtake; but it had 
utterly vanished. Outside we found our horses wait- 
ing, and together we picked a rough and broken path 


244 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


down Capitol Hill, and then a smoother road where 
we could put our horses to a canter up the avenue; 
a gay throng in coaches, in saddle, and on foot accom- 
panying us, and Mr. Meriwether Lewis saluting to 
right and left as we passed the more leisurely ones, 
or were passed by those riding or driving in reck- 
less haste. And so on to my inn, where Bandy Jim, 
still industriously polishing boots on the sidewalk, 
ducked his white head with a joyous “ Howdy, 
marsa!” and I felt as if an old friend was welcoming 
me home. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A MAGIC COACH 


"And we meet with champagne and a chicken.” 

I HAD made my toilet with such despatch that 
scarcely an hour after parting with Mr. Lewis 
at my inn I found myself once more at the White 
House. This time I was ushered up-stairs into an 
oval room, very gorgeously furnished in crimson, 
where the President was waiting, and a few of his 
guests. Beside him stood Mistress Madison, helping 
him to receive; for his daughters were both away at 
their homes. 1 improved the moment when she was 
speaking to some guests, who had arrived just before 
me, to look at her well. I had heard much of her, and 
I knew my sisters at home would want me to tell them 
exactly how she looked and what she wore. 

I think I have often seen more beautiful women 
(a dark-eyed maiden from Prance was in my mind at 
the moment as far more beautiful), but rarely have 
I seen a face lighted up with more of animation and 
good humor. On her head she wore an article of dress 
which I had heard described as worn by the ladies of 
London and Paris, but which I had never before 
seen; for the head-dresses of the Frenchwomen in 
245 


246 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


St. Louis, while in some respects quite as remarkable, 
bore not the slightest resemblance to this of Mistress 
Madison’s. It was a Turkish turban of white satin 
and velvet, with a jeweled crescent in front clasping a 
bunch of nodding white ostrich-plumes. Her gown, 
of pale pink satin, was heavily trimmed with ermine, 
and she wore gold chains about her waist and wrists, 
and carried a jeweled snuff-box in her hand. She 
was truly regal-looking, and I did not wonder that 
people sometimes laughingly spoke of her as “her 
Majesty.” Her turban especially, I think, gave her 
an indescribable air of distinction ; but I was not quite 
sure that I thought it as becoming as the dark curl- 
ing locks of the very beautiful lady who stood beside 
her. 

Mr. Lewis, at this moment descrying me, came for- 
ward to present me to the President and to Mistress 
Madison, who put me at my ease at once by inquiring 
for my mother and for many of my Philadelphia kin, 
who, she declared, were old and very dear friends. 
I would have liked to linger at her side, for she made 
me much at home, and I liked not to turn away and 
find myself among a roomful of strangers ; but I knew 
there were others waiting to be received by her, and I 
must move on. 

As I turned from her, a voice in my ear said imperi- 
ously : 

“Well, sir, and have you no word for your old 
friend, Fanny Cadwalader ? 9 9 

I turned quickly ; it was the beautiful lady with the 
dark curls. 


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247 


“Miss Fanny !” I cried in joyous recognition, and 
bent low over her extended hand. 

I had been but a young boy when Frances Cad- 
walader married Mr. Erskine and went to London to 
live; but we had been great friends as children, and 
I did not understand how I had failed to recognize 
her. She bade me stand beside her and she would 
point out all the distinguished guests, and I was glad 
indeed of her protection. In reply to my eager ques- 
tion as to how she came to be in Washington, she told 
me that her husband had been appointed minister 
from Great Britain in Mr. Merry’s place, and they 
were but newly arrived. 

“But where have you been living, sir,” she asked, 
with mock severity, “that you know nothing of what 
has been going on in the great world? Or are we 
personages of so small importance that our movements 
are not chronicled in America ? 9 9 

I had to explain that I had been in the backwoods 
for months, and for the last two months in the for- 
eign colony of Louisiana, in the village of St. Louis, 
where little of the doings of the outside world pene- 
trated. 

She forgave me my ignorance, and immediately 
pointed out to me her husband, a fine-looking English- 
man, talking to the most gorgeously arrayed creature 
I had ever beheld: satin, laces, velvets, jewels, gold 
lace, and powder made up a dazzling ensemble. 

“That,” said she, “is the Marquis de Casa Yrujo, 
and the lady with him is his wife, Sally McKean. He 
is magnificent, is he not? I would not quite like it if 


248 


THE BOSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I were the marchioness, for people look at him instead 
of her, and she is quite beautiful enough to be looked 
at herself.’ ’ 

“Ah, why begrudge the marquis his meed of ad- 
miration, if he likes it*?” I said. “And since he likes 
it, let us be grateful, for his sake, that it is not Mis- 
tress Erskine who is the marchioness, for who can see 
the glitter of the stars when the lovely moon is in the 
sky ? ’ 9 

She laughed good-naturedly at my gallantry, but 
I think she also liked it. We were standing near a 
window that looked out on the front approach to 
the White House. Suddenly Mistress Erskine ex- 
claimed : 

“Look, look quick, my friend! Here is magnifi- 
cence indeed!” 

I looked as she bade me, and saw what I conceived 
to be a rolling ball of burnished gold borne swiftly 
through the air by two gilt wings. As it came nearer 
we both grew more excited— I because I did not know 
what it was (and it looked more like a fairy coach than 
anything I had dreamed of), and she both because 
she enjoyed my bewilderment and because she loved 
magnificence. By this time as many of the other 
guests as were near windows and could look out with- 
out seeming to be over-eager, or discourteous to their 
host, were doing so. The rolling golden ball came to 
the very foot of the White House steps and stopped. 
What I had taken to be two gilt wings proved to be 
nothing more than gorgeous footmen, with chapeaux 
bras, gilt-braided skirts, and splendid swords. They 
sprang to the ground, opened the door of the coach, 


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249 


and from it alighted the French minister, weighted 
with gold lace and glittering with diamonds and jew- 
eled orders. He turned with stately ceremony to 
offer his hand to a lady who was alighting from the 
coach. First a tiny foot in high-arched slippers and 
embroidered stocking; then a glimpse of a skirt, pale 
pink and silver brocade, that had a strangely familiar 
air. I looked quickly at the head just emerging- 
waving black curls, dark glowing eyes, a complexion 
of ivory tinted with rose. 

It was Mademoiselle Pelagie ! 

My head swam. Was it indeed all a bit of enchant- 
ment? The golden coach, the gorgeous footmen, the 
dazzling minister of France, and— Pelagie! Mrs. Er- 
skine noted my agitation. 

“Qu’as-tu, rn’ami?” she said softly. “You know 
her, then?” 

“Know whom, madam?” I asked, trying to get 
myself under control and seem indifferent. 

“Our new sensation, the Great Lady of France, 
whom all the town is talking of. She arrived two days 
ago at the house of the French minister, and is staying 
there, it is said, under his protection, until she ehall 
find suitable escort to Paris, where she goes to take 
possession of her estates returned to her by Bonaparte. 
This is what rumor says, and it looks as if it were 
true that she is a great lady, since the minister has 
handed her from the carriage before his own wife. 
We will wait now to see where the President seats her 
at table; that will decide it.” 

I was trying hard to hold myself in hand and make 
suitable answer. 


250 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


‘ ‘ Is the President such a stickler, then, for form and 
ceremony? We had heard otherwise.” 

Mistress Erskine laughed: 

“True, I forgot. If he had been as particular as he 
should concerning precedence, I should not be here. 
You know, do you not, that my husband’s predecessor 
quarreled with President Jefferson because he gave 
his arm to Dolly Madison, in going in to dinner, in- 
stead of to the wife of the British minister?” 

“Yes; I have heard of the ‘ Merry War,’ ” I an- 
swered, and stopped. Not another word could I utter. 
Nor apparently could anybody else in the room; for 
every voice was hushed as all eyes were turned to the 
door where the French minister was entering with his 
wife on his left arm, and what I veritably believed to 
be the most beautiful creature in the world on his 
right. 

It was a brilliant spectacle ; for the French minister 
and his wife dazzled the sight by the glitter of gold 
lace and the flash of jewels, and Pelagie blinded the 
eyes as truly by a vision of radiant dark eyes, soft 
black tresses curling around a white throat, the gleam 
of snowy neck and rounded arms through rare lace, 
and the color of the rose slowly tinting the rich 
ivory of her cheeks, as they passed through a double 
lane of guests to speak to the President. 

Now was I in two minds whether to be supremely 
happy in once more beholding Mademoiselle Pelagie, 
whose graceful figure I thought had forever faded 
from my sight when the boat rounded the bend of the 
Ohio, or to be most miserable lest here among 


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251 


courtiers, and taking her rightful place with the 
great of the earth, she should no longer condescend 
to show me the friendliness she had shown on our last 
evening on the river. Neither was I quite sure whe- 
ther it was my place to go forward and speak to her 
or to await her pleasure in speaking to me. 

But Mistress Erskine solved the problem. 

“You do know her,” she said— “I see it in your 
eyes ; and you must present me at once. And do tell 
me,” she added eagerly: “is she so great a lady? 
We have heard so many rumors about her; what is the 
truth ? ’ ’ 

“I have only known her,” I answered, “as Made- 
moiselle Pelagie de Villa Real. I know that in France 
she is of high rank, but I do not know what.” 

“Ah,” she said, with a little gesture of disappoint- 
ment, “then you cannot introduce me properly, and 
I shall have to trust to that astute diplomat that he 
gives her her right title. Does she know it herself?” 

“I think she did not when she left St. Louis,” I 
answered, “but her new friends may have revealed 
it to her.” 

“On second thought,” said she, “I believe I will 
ask you to present her to me instead of the minister, 
if you will ; I would like to see how she takes the 
'Mademoiselle de Villa Real/ ” 

So there was nothing for it but to brace up my cour- 
age and go forward to speak to mademoiselle. Nothing 
could have been sweeter and more friendly than her 
greeting, and with no trace of embarrassment, though 
I thought the French minister regarded me with a 


252 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


coldly critical eye. Beside his magnificence I did feel 
rather shabby; for, though Yorke had done his best 
to freshen and restore my purple velvets by steaming 
and other appliances, they still were the worse for 
much service (especially the encounter with the cheva- 
lier), and for many packings in saddle-bags. Of my 
lace ruffles I was justly proud, for no courtier’s in the 
room were finer or richer, and my sword and scabbard 
were not to be ashamed of, for though not so bejew- 
eled as some, they were of the finest workmanship and 
inlaid with gold and pearl. 

Mademoiselle presented me to the French minister 
very prettily, however; and though I thought his 
greeting somewhat scant in courtesy, I attributed it to 
the suspicions he would naturally have, as made- 
moiselle’s guardian, of a young gentleman of whom 
he knew nothing, and whom mademoiselle received so 
kindly. 

I at once preferred Mistress Erskine’s request, but 
the minister gave Pelagie no chance to reply. 

“I will myself present the comtesse to the wife of 
the British ambassador, ’ ’ he said with alacrity, and led 
her away to Mistress Erskine. 

I saw that he had availed himself of this oppor- 
tunity to cut short my interview with mademoiselle; 
but, not to be outdone in diplomacy, I followed lei- 
surely, and was in time to hear the minister say : 

“It gives me pleasure to present to Madame Erskine 
the Comtesse de Baloit. ’ ’ And I saw by the profound 
curtsy Mistress Erskine made (and which mademoi- 
selle returned very prettily, but with a touch of con- 


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253 


descension, I thought) that that name meant some- 
thing more to her than it did to me. 

After the fashion of women, the two began at once a 
lively chatter in French, and I saw myself like to be 
shut out in the cold, with no further opportunity for 
converse with mademoiselle. But I would not desert 
my post, hoping sooner or later to get my chance. And 
I was rewarded ; for in a few minutes Mistress Erskine 
was called to receive another presentation. But as 
she turned away she whispered in my ear : 

“Be careful how you behave, sir; she is of the blood 
royal ! ’ ’ 

Blood royal or not, she would always be Mademoi- 
selle Pelagie to me, and I was not going to lose my 
opportunity. 

“Tell me, Comtesse, ,, I said, “how you came here. 
When I saw you last you had no idea of coming to 
Washington/ ’ 

She did not answer my question at once, but, glanc- 
ing up at me from under her long lashes in the most 
adorable fashion, she said softly : 

“You used to call me Comtesse when you were 
angry. Are you angry now?” 

“No, not when I was angry,” I answered, “but 
when you were— were— ” 

“Proud and naughty and altogether disagreeable,” 
she interposed quickly; “and that was very often, 
was it not, Monsieur?” 

“Yes, Comtesse.” 

“Iam not either now, am I ? Then why do you not 
call me Mademoiselle?” 


254 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“No, indeed! You are”— I was going to say 
“adorable,” but I finished tamely— “neither. But 
you are really Comtesse, and it is proper I should call 
you so.” And before I was aware of what I was 
doing, I fetched a great sigh from the bottom of my 
boots. She understood, and looked up at me with a 
pathetic little smile that was sadder than my sigh. 

‘ ‘ I am sorry, too ; I think I would rather be made- 
moiselle,” she said. 

“And of the blood royal!” I added severely, as if 
accusing her of a crime. 

She dropped her eyes. 

“I cannot help it. I never knew till yesterday,” 
meekly. 

“And your guardian,” I indicated the French min- 
ister with a slight nod in his direction, “thinks it 
great presumption for a plain Yankee gentleman to 
be talking on such familiar terms with a princess of 
the blood, and is coming in a few minutes to put a 
stop to it.” 

She looked at the minister quickly with a haughty 
turn of the head and a flashing glance, but in a mo- 
ment she turned back to me with a smile curling her 
scarlet lips and a humorous twinkle in her eye. 

“He would never dare,” she said. “He is a good 
Citizen of the Republic.” 

“Nevertheless he will dare,” I insisted. “I see it 
in his eye ; so first tell me quickly how you got here, 
and when and where you are going.” 

“Your boat was hardly out of sight, Monsieur,” 
she answered, ‘ ‘ when another came up the river direct 


A MAGIC COACH 


255 


from St. Louis with Monsieur and Madame Cerre 
aboard. They brought letters from my guardian di- 
recting me to go on with them to Washington (where 
they were going to see the Spanish minister about 
some trouble they had had with Americans— concern- 
ing peltries, I think, and land, perhaps), and they 
would place me in the French minister’s care. I did 
not expect to find you here, for we were a whole day 
behind you; but we traveled rapidly.” 

“And I was delayed,” I said. “But when and 
how are you to get to Paris? With the Livingstons?” 

“No; Citizen Pichon says they sailed this week. 
But he tells me, what is not generally known, that 
your government is about to send a special envoy to 
France concerning New Orleans— a Monsieur Mon- 
roe; and Monsieur Pichon has arranged that I shall 
go with him.” 

“Do you know when?” L asked hastily, for I saw 
the President moving toward us with the Marquis de 
Casa Yrujo, and I was quite sure that meant an end to 
all conversation. 

“Not for several weeks, I believe; but I am not 
sure,” she answered. 

“Will the Comtesse de Baloit permit me to present 
the Marquis de Casa Yrujo, who will take her out to 
dinner?” And the President was adding a pretty lit- 
tle speech of compliment, in his gallant way, and the 
marquis was bowing solemnly and profoundly, and the 
comtesse was curtsying and smiling, and I was left en- 
tirely out in the cold. I was rescued by Mistress 
Madison. 


256 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“I would like nothing better than to give you your 
old friend Mistress Erskine to take out to dinner / 9 
she said, smiling. “It is forlorn for a young man 
among so many grown-ups, and the only young maiden 
snatched away from him. But the President is not 
going to blunder twice in the same fashion, and will 
take Mistress Erskine himself. Now I will give you 
your choice among the rest. Whom would you like 
to take?” 

“Ah, your Majesty,” I answered quickly, hand on 
my heart and bowing low, but smiling up at her,— 
for she was a woman into whose amiable, cordial face 
no man could look without smiling, — “I suppose I dare 
not lift my eyes as high as my heart would dictate, and 
since you are out of the question, I care not whom you 
give me.” 

“Saucy boy !”— and she tapped me lightly with her 
snuff-box, — “I vow I think you would be vastly more 
fun than the British minister, but my country de- 
mands that I sacrifice myself. I will give you the 
Marchioness de Casa Yrujo. If you do not know 
Sally McKean, she certainly knew you when you 
were in petticoats.” 

So I found myself seated at table between the most 
brilliant woman there and the most beautiful ; for the 
Marchioness de Casa Yrujo was universally conceded 
to be the one, and the Comtesse de Baloit was, in my 
esteem at least, as certainly the other. 

It was a long table, and bounteously furnished- 
lacking, perhaps, some of the elegance of the Phila- 
delphia tables I had been accustomed to, but with a 


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257 


lavish prodigality native to the South. Two new 
guests had arrived while I had been so engrossed in 
talking to the comtesse that I had not observed their 
entrance, a gentleman and his wife. The lady was 
amiable-looking, but of no great distinction of ap- 
pearance. The gentleman I thought I had seen be- 
fore; his long, rather lean visage, somber but digni- 
fied, looked familiar to me. When the marchioness 
told me it was Mr. Monroe, I wondered that I had not 
recognized him at once, for he was a familiar figure 
on our streets during the ten years when Philadelphia 
was the capital. Moreover, I could have vowed he 
was wearing the same sad-colored drab clothes he used 
to appear in then, so entirely unchanged were both 
cut and color. I looked at him now with great inter- 
est, for was he not to decide the fortunes of the West? 
—in which I could have taken no greater interest had 
I been Western-born. And, more than that, was he 
not appointed to wdiat seemed to me a mission of far 
greater importance, the conveying of mademoiselle in 
safety to her home ? 

I could have wished Mistress Monroe was to accom- 
pany him, for she had an air of motherly kindliness 
that I felt would be both protection and comfort to 
Mademoiselle Pelagie; and aside from the fact that 
there was something cold and austere in Mr. Monroe’s 
face, I was sufficiently imbued with Mr. Hamilton’s 
ideas to feel no great confidence in the man. (Wherein 
I have since thought I did Mr. Monroe great injustice, 
since in every act of his life he has proved himself a 
high-minded gentleman. But Mr. Hamilton’s personal 
n 


258 


THE. ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


magnetism was so great that it was quite impossibly 
for us younger men at least, not to feel that every one 
who differed with him must be, if not wholly unprin- 
cipled, at least worthy of doubt and suspicion.) 

It was a brilliant dinner-table, for the exciting de- 
bate at the Capitol furnished a theme that loosed every 
tongue. Yet I could see that the President, while he 
kept the ball rolling with a gaiety and good humor 
that rather surprised me, was himself most guarded. 
Indeed, many were restrained, no doubt, from saying 
quite what they thought by the presence of the Span- 
ish minister, who at that time was at the height of his 
popularity— his course in the Louisiana affair, which 
made him so many enemies, not having been taken 
until later. 

Yet most of those present were more in sympathy 
with Clinton of New York and Jackson of Georgia 
than with Ross of Pennsylvania and Gouverneur Mor- 
ris. When Mr. Erskine spoke of Gouverneur Morris’s 
speech as a masterly effort, the President, whom he ad- 
dressed, replied only by a smile so coldly polite that it 
was like a dash of cold water, not only to the British 
minister, but to the whole table. 

I was ever a blundering idiot, and knew not when to 
leave well enough alone ; neither had I ever the heart 
to see fellow-man discomfited (especially if he were on 
my side of the question) without going at once to his 
aid. So, forgetting that it was the powerful minister 
of a great nation, who needed no help from a man en- 
tirely unknown in the great world and of extreme 
youth, I plunged boldly in. 


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259 


“I agree with you, sir, most heartily,” I said. “In 
force and polish and weight of argument it was be- 
yond compare. But I expected nothing less from 
Gouverneur Morris.” 

There was a dead silence around the table; even 
the British minister had not the temerity to do more 
than bow his thanks in the face of Jefferson’s icy 
smile. I caught a glimpse of the marquis’s profile; 
he was frowning heavily. The French minister’s face 
was a blank, and so was Mr. Monroe’s. Pelagie 
looked the picture of distress, and Mr. Lewis made me 
a slight gesture which I took to mean, “Keep still.” 
Even Mistress Erskine looked embarrassed, and I 
could understand none of it. But as I caught Mis- 
tress Madison’s eye there was a twinkle of humor in 
it, and she gave the slightest, very slightest nod in the 
world toward the President. 

Then at once it flashed upon me : Gouverneur Mor- 
ris was bosom friend to Mr. Hamilton, and this was 
no place to be lauding him to the skies. Then was I 
seized with a rage against the restraints of society, 
that would not permit me to fling defiance in the face 
of all these grandees,— aye, and of the President him- 
self,— and declare my allegiance to Hamilton and his 
friends. And mingled with my rage was an intoler- 
able sense of mortification that I had made such an ar- 
rant fool of myself before all these older men and 
lovely women. But, with a tact for which I can never 
be sufficiently grateful to her, Mistress Madison 
turned at once to Pelagie. 

“Comtesse,” she said, “you are fresh from the col- 


260 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


ony of Louisiana, in which we are all so deeply in- 
terested; tell ns something about your life in St. 
Louis, and how you found your Spanish rulers .’ 9 

And mademoiselle, understanding, responded at 
once with glowing descriptions of her happy life there, 
and the courtesy and polish of the people, with many 
gay little touches of rude and funny experience. 
Everybody thawed at once ; for most of those present 
had been much in Paris and could understand her 
French as easily as I. The President became as genial 
as he had been icy, and he insisted on drawing me also 
into the conversation (I think for the purpose of giv- 
ing me an opportunity of retrieving myself), in which 
I hope I bore my part modestly ; for I like not to seem 
either presumptuous or vainglorious, though, because I 
am a blunderer, I no doubt seem sometimes to be both. 

The curtains had been drawn and the candles 
lighted when we sat down to dinner, though the sun 
was still shining; but the short winter afternoon had 
rapidly passed into evening, and then into dark night, 
and we still lingered at the table. Talk had grown 
more and more animated as the wine flowed more 
freely, and toasts were drunk and bright speeches 
made in response. I had, as in duty bound, devoted 
most of my attention to the marchioness, and the mar- 
quis had engrossed Pelagie. Yet there had been 
chance for an occasional word with her. It was when 
the marquis was rising to respond to a toast to his 
Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, amid the ringing of 
glasses, that I turned to mademoiselle. 

‘ ‘Would it be permitted an old friend to call at the 


A MAGIC COACH 261 

house of the French minister on the Comtesse de Ba- 
loit?” 

“It would be unpardonable if he neglected to do 
so , 9 9 she responded, with a bright smile. 

“Then to-morrow at two I hope to find you at 
home, ,, I said, and then added quickly— “unless you 
are going to the Senate again ? ’ ’ 

She colored a little. 

“Did you know me?” 

But she would not let me answer her own question, 
for the marquis was beginning to speak, and it be- 
hooved us to listen. In the midst of the applause that 
followed his speech, I saw the President whisper some- 
thing to the black man who stood behind his chair and 
send him to me. For a moment, when the messenger 
told me the President wished to see me in his office 
after the others were gone, I thought I was to be called 
to account for my malapropos speech, but I was re- 
lieved when he added : 

“The President hab a message from yo’ home, 
sah.” 

And had it not been that I liked much feeling my- 
self so near mademoiselle, even if I had only an occa- 
sional word from her, I would have been very impa- 
tient for dinner to be over, for a message from home 
sent to the President, it seemed to me, must be of im- 
portance. 

Dinner was over at last, and there was but little lin- 
gering afterward. I had the pleasure of helping 
mademoiselle into her coach, though Monsieur Pichon 
looked cold and the Marquis de Yrujo tried to fore- 


262 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


stall me. But when she was shut up inside the golden 
ball, and the great golden wings were once more 
perched on either side of it, and it rolled away glitter- 
ing and flashing in the light of the torches as it had 
flashed and glittered in the rays of the sun five hours 
before, I had a sinking of the heart such as I might 
have felt had she been snatched away from my sight 
forever in the prophet’s fiery chariot bearing her to 
the skies. 

Mr. Meriwether Lewis was waiting to conduct me 
to the President’s office, and he stayed and talked with 
me pleasantly until the President arrived; laughing 
with me at my faux pas , but telling me I had nothing 
to fear from the President’s displeasure, as he was 
not the man to harbor a grudge on so slight a matter, 
and he (though, to be sure, he was a lifelong friend) 
had ever found him to be kind, considerate, and 
genial. , 

And such I found him in our brief interview. He 
went directly to the point with me, which always goes 
far toward winning my liking. 

“I know your family,” he said, “have ever been 
friends of Mr. Hamilton, and so not particularly 
friendly to me in a political way ; but your father and 
I have been associated much in scientific pursuits, and 
we have ever been congenial friends in our love of 
botanical research. He has sent me many rare plants 
and seeds to Monticello, and now he shows me the fur- 
ther courtesy of reposing a confidence in me, and I 
hope you will express to him my appreciation, which 
I will prove by reposing a like confidence in you. 


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263 


Your father writes me that a letter has just been re- 
ceived from your uncle, Monsieur Barbe Marbois, in- 
viting you to spend some time with him in Paris. 
He says that both he and your mother think it 
much to be desired that you should improve this op- 
portunity for completing your education. He says, 
further, that a ship sails from New York early next 
week, and requests me, if you should be in Washing- 
ton when I receive this letter, as he suspects, that I 
will instruct you to lose no time in reaching home. 
Indeed, so urgent is he, and the time is so short, I 
think, without doubt, you should set off by daybreak 
to-morrow morning. 

“Now, as I said before, I am going also to repose a 
confidence in you. It is not generally known, nor do 
I wish it known for the present (therefore I speak in 
confidence) , that I have decided to send an envoy ex- 
traordinaire to Paris for the purpose of discussing 
with the French government the possibility of pur- 
chasing New Orleans. I communicated this to the 
Senate to-day in secret session, and I now communi- 
cate it to you, also in 'secret session’”— with a genial 
smile. 

“I have asked Mr. Monroe to undertake this deli- 
cate mission, and he has to-day consented, and is here 
arranging his plans and discussing with me and with 
Mr. Madison the points involved. He will not be able 
to set out for some weeks, but we hope now that he 
can sail by the eighth of March, reaching Paris some- 
where near the twelfth of April. Mr. Livingston 
naturally knows nothing of this, and the favor I have 


264 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


to ask of yon is that, immediately upon yonr arrival 
in Paris, you call upon him and deliver to him a note 
which I shall give you, and also explain fully to him 
all that I have said to you, all that you have heard at 
dinner this evening, and particularly repeat to him as 
much as you can hold in memory of the debate you 
listened to in the Senate to-day. ’ ’ 

The President paused for a moment, and then, with 
a smile of rare sweetness, he added : 

“Is the ardent young friend of Hamilton willing 
to put the President under such a load of obliga- 
tions ? ’ 9 

For a moment I hardly knew what response to 
make. Not that I dreamed of denying his request : I 
was only too proud and happy that he should have 
made it. But that he should have reposed such a con- 
fidence in me, when he knew me scarcely at all, seemed 
incomprehensible. I made but a stammering reply. 

“Your Excellency , 9 ’ I said, “I fear I have given 
you but a poor idea of my discretion, but since you 
trust me in spite of my blunder, I am very proud to 
be of service to you. ’ ’ 

It took but a minute for the President to give me his 
note to Mr. Livingston, and a few further instructions, 
and then he bade me God-speed with a warmth and 
cordiality I had never expected and certainly never 
deserved at his hands. 

There was but little sleep for me that night. As 
Fatima clattered into the stony courtyard of my inn, 
I called loudly for Bandy Jim; and when the poor old 
man came stumbling out of some inner retreat, half 


A MAGIC COACH 


265 


blinded with sleep, I begged him to look after Fatima 
himself, and see that she was well rubbed down and 
ready for an early morning start, and that I was called 
and breakfast ready by six. 

In my own room I spent not much time in packing 
my saddle-bags, but it took me a good half-hour to 
write a brief note to mademoiselle, explaining why I 
was compelled to cancel my engagement with her for 
the next day, and bidding her good-by in such fashion 
that, without seeming presumptuous, she might read 
between the lines how much of my heart I had put 
into it. 

I had said nothing in my note about going to Paris. 
I very much desired to keep that for a surprise when 
I might some day meet her there. And, lest she should 
hear it from others, I wrote also a note to Meriwether 
Lewis, asking him to say nothing about it to any one, 
and to request the President to keep my secret for me. 

Then, putting a bright new gold piece with the two 
notes to be delivered by the trusty hands of Bandy 
Jim in the morning, I lay down to get a brief sleep, 
if possible— but, sleeping or waking, to dream of 
Paris and the Comtesse de Baloit. 


CHAPTER XIX 


CHECK TO THE ABBE ! 

“ When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war.” 

I HAD been in Paris three weeks, and they had been 
weeks of unalloyed delight. The life and gaiety of 
the brilliant capital, the streets lined with handsome 
houses and thronged with gay equipages, richly 
dressed people, soldiers wearing the tricolored cock- 
ade, students, artists, workmen, blanchisseuses, and 
nursery-maids in picturesque costumes tending pret- 
tily dressed children, made a moving panorama I 
never tired of. Even the great palaces and the won- 
derful works of art scarcely interested me as did this 
shifting kaleidoscopic picture, and I looked back at life 
in my native town on the banks of the Delaware as 
belonging to another world, incomparably tame and 
dull by comparison. 

Every morning I accompanied my uncle, Monsieur 
Barbe Marbois, to the Treasury office, and left him at 
the door, to roam around the streets and watch the life 
of the town. I was at home again in time for midday 
dejeuner, and then on Fatima ’s back (for I had 
brought Fatima with me; no persuasion of friends 
could induce me to leave her behind, since she had 
266 


CHECK TO THE ABBE; 


267 


twice rescued mademoiselle and so become my most 
trusted friend)— on Fatima's back I dashed out the 
Avenue to the beautiful Wood of Boulogne, sometimes 
racing with the young bloods to whom my uncle had 
introduced me, sometimes checking my horse to a gen- 
tle canter beside a coachful of Faubourg St. Germain 
beauties, exchanging merry compliments with the 
brilliant and witty mothers while I looked at the 
pretty daughters, who, for aught I knew, were as stu- 
pid as their mothers were brilliant, since they never 
opened their mouths. And so back to my aunt's in 
time to make a careful toilet for the four-o'clock din- 
ner, when there were sure to be guests, more or less 
distinguished, but always interesting. 

I had delivered my message and my note from the 
President to Mr. Livingston on the day of my arrival, 
and it seemed to me that it did not please him over- 
much that an envoy extraordinaire should be sent to 
attend to his affairs; but he said nothing, and re- 
ceived me most graciously, both as a messenger 
from the president and because I was the son of his 
old friend. 

Several times since my arrival at my uncle's house, 
both Mr. Livingston and his son the colonel had been 
guests there, and always the talk had turned on what 
most interested me, the purchase of New Orleans and 
the Floridas. At one of these dinners, Monsieur Tal- 
leyrand, the Minister of Foreign Relations, was also 
guest, and while there was but little reference to Loui- 
siana at table, I was, with no intention on my part, a 
listener later to a most interesting conversation be- 


268 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


tween Monsieur Talleyrand and Mr. Livingston that 
was no doubt intended to be strictly private. 

Thinking that it was very likely the three gentlemen 
—the Minister of Foreign Relations, my uncle the 
Secretary of the Treasury, and the United States min- 
ister-might have matters of importance to discuss 
where my absence would be more desirable than my 
presence, I left the salon immediately after dinner, 
and went out into the garden, taking with me a Phila- 
delphia paper that had arrived by that morning’s ex- 
press and that I had not yet seen. I took my paper 
into the little summer-house at the farther end of the 
garden, and was soon engrossed reading the debates 
in Congress. I found there had been another of great 
interest on the same Louisiana subject, and so deeply 
immersed was I in my paper that I did not notice that 
any one had entered the garden until the sound of 
voices quite close to me roused me. A small table with 
several garden-chairs surrounding it stood under a 
spreading horse-chestnut tree, and there we often took 
our morning coffee, if the weather was fine, or smoked 
our evening cigars. At this table Monsieur Talleyrand 
and Mr. Livingston had seated themselves, and how 
long they had been talking I did not know, so absorbed 
was I in my paper, when Mr. Livingston’s voice, a lit- 
tle raised above its usual even tenor, roused me. 

I sprang to my feet, realizing that I must seem like 
an eavesdropper, should any one discover me there, 
even though I had not heard a word. Mr. Livingston 
was facing the door of the summer-house, and as he 
saw me he nodded pleasantly to me to come forward. 


CHECK TO THE ABBE 5 


269 


“Here, Citizen Minister / 9 he said to Mr. Talley- 
rand, “is a young man whose father would like to 
train him for the profession of diplomacy. Perhaps 
he could not begin his apprenticeship better than by 
being present at our interview, and, if you have no 
objections, I will ask him to remain. He can act as 
secretary and take notes for the future reference of us 
both, if you like . 9 9 

I rather thought Mr. Talleyrand did not quite like, 
though he assented to Mr. Livingston’s proposal, but 
with such cold politeness as made me exceedingly un- 
comfortable, and I would have been very glad to make 
my escape to the house. But, for some reason, Mr. 
Livingston seemed to especially desire me to remain, 
and I saw no help for it but to sit down at a respectful 
distance, take my memorandum-book out of my pocket, 
and prepare, ostensibly at least, to take notes. 

I was much concerned, also, at what Mr. Livingston 
had said about my father desiring to train me for 
diplomacy. He had never said anything to me about 
it, and I determined on the instant I would never be a 
diplomat. “The life of a soldier for me!” I said to 
myself, and then suddenly realized that Mr. Living- 
ston was talking, and it behooved me to listen care- 
fully if I was to play the secretary. 

Mr. Livingston was saying : 

“Be assured, sir, that even were it possible that the 
government of the United States could be insensible 
to the sufferings of the Western people, they would 
find it as easy to prevent the Mississippi from rolling 
its waters into the ocean as to control the impulse of 


270 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST, LOUIS 


the people to do themselves justice. Sir, I will ven- 
ture to say that were a fleet to shut up the mouths of 
the Chesapeake, the Delaware, and the Hudson, it 
would create less sensation in the United States than 
the denial of the right of deposit at New Orleans has 
done.” 

I liked the ring in Mr. Livingston’s voice, and his 
words sounded very stirring to me; but I could not 
see that they made any impression on the impassive 
countenance of Monsieur Talleyrand. He was reclin- 
ing in his garden-chair, and I could see that as Mr. 
Livingston spoke he was regarding him intently 
through half-shut eyes. His tones were of the sweet- 
est and blandest as he replied : 

“The First Consul, Mr. Livingston, has asked me 
to say to you that he proposes to send General Berna- 
dotte as envoy to the United States to acquire such in- 
formation as he may deem necessary, previous to his 
taking any measure relative to the situation in which 
the acquisition of Louisiana will place France with 
respect to the United States. I hope, moreover, that 
this measure on the part of the First Consul will prove 
satisfactory both to you and to your government . 9 9 

Now I cannot but think that Mr. Talleyrand is too 
astute a man to have thought for an instant that this 
would prove satisfactory, and so, I have no doubt, he 
was quite prepared for Mr. Livingston’s indignant 
outburst : 

“Satisfactory, sir! If, sir, the question related to 
the forming of a new treaty, I should find no objection 
to this measure. On the contrary, I should readily ac- 


CHECK TO THE ABBE! 


271 


quiesce in it as that which would be best calculated to 
render the treaty mutually advantageous. But, sir, 
it is not a new treaty for which we now press, but the 
recognition of an old one, by which the United States 
have acquired rights that no change in the circum- 
stances of the country obliges them to relinquish, and 
which they never will relinquish but with their politi- 
cal existence ! ’ ’ 

It was hard for me to sit still under such ringing 
sentences. I wanted to clap my hands and cry 
1 i Bravo !” For a moment all the glories of Paris 
turned dull and insipid ; I would have given them all 
to be in Kentucky on Fatima’s back, marching down 
the river to capture New Orleans. 

But Mr. Livingston had not finished. Mr. Talley- 
rand made a slight movement as if to speak, but, with 
uplifted hand to prevent him, Mr. Livingston hurried 
on : 

“In what situation, sir, are we now placed? An 
armament is about sailing for New Orleans. That 
port has been shut by the order of Spain. The French 
commandant will find it shut. Will he think himself 
authorized to open it? If not, it must remain shut 
until the envoy of France shall have arrived in Amer- 
ica, made the necessary inquiries, and transmitted the 
result of those inquiries to the First Consul. In the 
meantime all the produce of five States is left to rot 
upon their hands. There is only one season in which 
the navigation of the Mississippi is practicable. This 
season must necessarily pass before the envoy of 
France can arrive and make his report. Is it sup- 


272 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


posable, sir, that the people of the United States will 
tranquilly await the progress of negotiations, when 
the ruin of themselves and their families will be at- 
tendant on the delay? I can never bring myself to 
believe that the First Consul will, by deferring for a 
moment the recognition of a right that admits of no 
discussion, break all those ties which bind the United 
States to France, obliterate the sense of past obliga- 
tions, change every political relation that it has been, 
and still is, the earnest wish of the United States to 
preserve, and force them to connect their interests 
with a rival power ! And this, too, for an object of no 
real moment in itself. Louisiana is, and ever must be, 
from physical causes, a miserable country in the hands 
of an European power. ’ ’ 

Mr. Talleyrand’s eyes had not moved from Mr. Liv- 
ingston’s face during this long speech, but at his last 
words I saw" a sudden spark leap into them. 

“You no doubt think, sir,” he said in his low, even 
tones, “that Louisiana would be a much better coun- 
try in the hands of the United States. Would your 
government like to buy it from us ? ” 

“You know, sir, and have known for some time,” 
replied Mr. Livingston, “that w T e are ready to make an 
offer for New Orleans and the Floridas as soon as you 
are ready to listen to it.” 

“But would you not rather have the whole of Loui- 
siana? The rest of it, without New Orleans, would be 
of little value to us. What would you give for the 
whole ? ’ ’ 

Mr. Livingston looked bewildered for an instant; it 


CHECK TO THE ABBE! 


273 


was almost more than he could take in at once. But 
after a moment’s thought he replied : 

“It is a subject, sir, I have not considered; but I 
suppose we shall not object to twenty million francs, 
provided our citizens are paid.” 

“That is much too low an offer, my dear sir,” re- 
sponded Talleyrand, “but I see the idea is new to you. 
I would be glad if you would reflect upon it, and tell 
me to-morrow the result of your reflections.” 

“Mr. Monroe will be in town in a day or two.” (My 
heart gave so great a thump when Mr. Livingston said 
that, I feared they might hear it — for would not the 
Comtesse de Baloit be with him ?) “And I would like 
to delay any further offer until I shall have the plea- 
sure of introducing him.” 

Mr. Talleyrand shrugged his shoulders slightly. 

‘ ‘ As you will, Monsieur ; but do not give Mr. Monroe 
reason to think that I speak with authority. The idea 
struck me that you might like the whole of the colony 
quite as well as part of it.” 

I thought this would have put an end to the conver- 
sation; but I soon saw that Mr. Livingston had an- 
other card to play, and that he evidently did not be- 
lieve the minister was speaking entirely on his own 
authority. 

“Monsieur Talleyrand,” he said, “I have this morn- 
ing received a notice from my home government that 
Mr. Ross’s resolution authorizing the President to 
seize New Orleans was lost by four votes. Another 
was offered by Mr. Breckinridge of Kentucky, which 
was unanimously adopted. Mr. Breckinridge’s reso- 
18 


274 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


lution was to the effect that the President of the 
United States be authorized to require of the execu- 
tives of the several States, to arm and equip, and hold 
in readiness to march at a moment’s notice, eighty 
thousand militia ; that money be appropriated for pay- 
ing and subsisting such troops; and also that money 
be appropriated for erecting on the Western border 
one or more arsenals, as the President may judge 
proper. Monsieur Talleyrand, this means but one 
thing : that the United States is ready to act at once 
if Prance does not recognize our right of deposit ; and 
I beg you will use your influence with the First Con- 
sul, that he will not send General Bernadotte until 
this question is determined.” 

Mr. Talleyrand, with another shrug of his shoulders, 
seemed to disclaim any influence with the First Con- 
sul, though he said: 

“If you will make me an offer for the whole of 
Louisiana that I can convey to him, I have no doubt 
it will carry great weight. ’ ’ 

“I must decline to do so, Monsieur, as I am expect- 
ing Mr. Monroe in a day or two.” 

Suddenly Mr. Livingston changed his tone. It was 
no longer one of mild argument, but as of one who 
called another to account. I was astonished that he 
dared so address the powerful Minister of Foreign Re- 
lations. 

“I have long been endeavoring to bring you to some 
point, Monsieur, but, unfortunately, without effect. 
I wish merely to have the negotiation opened by any 
proposition on your part. It was with that view I 


CHECK TO THE ABBE! 


275 


sent you a note a few days ago, to which, as yet, I 
have received no answer. ’ ’ 

The great man sounded to me surprisingly meek as 
he replied : 

“I would have answered your note earlier, Mr. 
Livingston, but I have been waiting, hoping I could 
give you some more satisfactory reply. I will delay 
no longer. I will answer it; but it will have to be 
evasively, for Louisiana is not ours. ’ ’ 

I caught a glimpse of Mr. Livingston’s countenance ; 
a more sardonic smile I have never seen— a smile 
which said as plainly as words, “You are lying.’ ’ He 
spoke with frigid courtesy : 

“It seems strange that I should be better informed 
than the Minister of Foreign Relations,” he said, “but 
I have seen the treaty. Moreover, I know that the 
Consul has appointed officers to govern the colony, and 
he has himself told me that General Victor was to take 
possession. And, what seems to me most convincing 
proof — why does the First Consul send General Ber- 
nadotte to the United States to treat in relation to 
Louisiana, if Louisiana does not belong to France?” 

I thought that would have floored even Talleyrand ; 
but not at all. With another shrug of his shoulders, 
and putting together his finger-tips in a manner that 
gave him a most indifferent air, he only persisted in 
saying that they had it in contemplation, but had not 
yet secured it. I wondered what Mr. Livingston 
would say next, but I need not have feared for him. 
Quick as thought, and all smiles and amiability, he 
responded to the minister : 


276 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“I am very well pleased to understand this from 
you, Monsieur, because, if so, we will not commit our- 
selves with you by taking it from Spain, to whom, by 
your account, it still belongs. And as we have just 
cause of complaint against Spain, if Mr. Monroe con- 
curs in my opinion, we will negotiate no further on 
the subject with you, but advise our government to 
take possession. ’ ’ 

For the first time Mr. Talleyrand seemed moved. 
He sprang to his feet and spoke quickly : 

“I beg you will take no such measures at present, 
Mr. Livingston. I will answer your note, though I 
must still say, as I have said before, it will have to be 
evasively. ’ ’ 

Mr. Livingston, who had also risen to his feet, bowed 
formally. 

‘ ‘ I shall be glad to receive any communication from 
you, Citizen Minister, but we are not disposed to trifle. 
The times are critical, and though I do not know what 
instructions Mr. Monroe may bring, I am perfectly 
satisfied they will require a precise and prompt no- 
tice. I am very fearful, from the little progress I 
have made, my government will consider me as a very 
indolent negotiator. ’ ’ 

Mr. Talleyrand laughed, a high, rasping laugh, but 
evidently intended to be of great good humor. 

“I will give you a certificate, Mr. Livingston, and 
you can send it home to your government, that you 
are the most importunate negotiator I have ever met 
with. ’ ’ 

Their conference seemed to be ended; they turned 
and walked toward the house, leaving me to ponder 


CHECK TO THE ABB 


277 


with wonder and amaze at what I had listened to, 
and with keen admiration for the part Mr. Living- 
ston had taken in the matter. I had always been led to 
believe that no man could hold his own against the 
shrewd and unfathomable Abbe ; but, if I mistook not, 
this time Mr. Livingston had not only held his own, 
but got much the better of him. 

Suddenly a thought flashed into my mind. What 
did Talleyrand mean by repeating over and over, and 
in such significant phrase, that his answer must be 
4 ‘ evasive’. 5 ’ ? Could it be possible that he was inti- 
mating that a consideration would be necessary to 
make it more decided ? I believed that he had so inti- 
mated, and that Mr. Livingston had understood him, 
and had repelled the intimation with scorn. 

Then again there flashed into my mind the two mil- 
lion dollars that had been voted the President to 
use “as he thought best” in adjusting this matter. 
Was it intended to use in buying up “such crea- 
tures,” I said scornfully to myself, “as Talleyrand”? 
Vague insinuations in those speeches in Congress I 
had listened to now seemed to me as clear as day. 

Hot with indignation and shame,— my indigna- 
tion for Talleyrand, my shame that my country could 
stoop to such measures,— I rushed into the house to 
my uncle. He had been entertaining Colonel Living- 
ston while the other two were holding their confer- 
ence; but all three gentlemen were gone now, and I 
found him sitting quietly in his library, reading. I 
had flung the door wide as I entered, and I stopped 
on the threshold. 

“Monsieur, what does it mean?” I cried. “Does 


278 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUTS 


Monsieur Talleyrand want Mr. Livingston to offer 
him a bribe? And were the two millions of dollars 
given to Mr. Jefferson for such base purposes ?” 

My uncle looked up, startled and amazed beyond 
measure. He did not at all take in my meaning, but 
he was very sensible of my rudeness. My uncle was 
ever the most amiable of men and the most tolerant, 
but for correctness of deportment and elegance of 
manner he was a stickler, and so flagrant a breach 
of both was intolerable to him. 

|‘I think you forget yourself, sir,” he said coldly; 
and that was all he said, but his words cut like tem- 
pered steel in quivering flesh. A great wave of morti- 
fication rushed in a crimson flood to the very roots of 
my hair. 

c ‘ I am most truly sorry, sir, to have been so rude, ’ ’ 
I stammered, “and I beg you will not think that we 
do not know good manners in America. I fear I am 
ever slow to think and headlong to act, and it has often 
brought me to grief.” 

My uncle, who, as I said, was all amiability, forgave 
me at once, and invited me most cordially to enter 
his library. I was loath to intrude after my great 
rudeness, but he would not let me off. 

“Come in, come in,” he said, “and I will answer 
your question by another. What has led you to think 
that Mr. Talleyrand desires a bribe from Mr. Liv- 
ingston ? Has any one been saying so to you ? ’ ’ 

Then was. I in greater confusion than before. I 
did not know whether Mr. Livingston would desire me 
to say anything about the interview to which I had 


CHECK TO THE ABBI5 ! 


270 


been accidentally made a party, and I had intended 
to say nothing to any one until I had had a chance to 
find out his wishes; and now, in my indignation, I 
had entirely forgot my resolution and betrayed my- 
self. There was no way out but to make a clean breast 
of my part in it. 

So I told my uncle how I had been caught in the 
summer-house, and been invited to become a listener 
to secrets of state. My uncle threw back his head and 
laughed long and loud. But when he had calmed 
down a little, he looked at me keenly. 

* ‘ So you think Mr. Talleyrand wanted a bribe from 
Mr. Livingston? Would you mind telling me what he 
said that led you to think so ? ’ ’ 

Now was I greatly embarrassed, for I had fully re- 
solved that not one iota of information of which I 
had become the possessor so innocently should pass 
my lips without Mr. Livingston’s sanction. My uncle 
noticed my embarrassment, and spoke quickly : 

“ Never mind, my boy. It is no doubt just as well 
that you should not tell me what you feel you have no 
right to repeat ; but it would make no real difference. 
I see that you are trustworthy, and I do not mind tell- 
ing you that the First Consul is of somewhat the same 
opinion. He does not altogether trust the Minister of 
Foreign Relations, and it is more than likely the 
negotiations will be taken out of his hands and put 
into mine. It is more than likely also that it was 
because Mr. Livingston does not trust him that he 
desired to have you present as a witness. Now you 
see how I trust you. These are matters of grave im- 


280 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


port, my boy, and if yon had been eager to tell me all 
you had heard I would have been loath indeed to con- 
fide in you, as I have just done.” 

I glowed with pleasure at my uncle’s words, and 
thanked him most earnestly for his confidence, which 
I told him was not misplaced. And then, fearing I 
was intruding too long upon his hours of privacy (for 
they were few indeed, and greatly prized, I knew), 
I bowed myself out of his library, and dashed for a 
ride on Fatima down the crowded avenue. For it was 
upon Fatima’s back I could ever think best, and I 
had much to think over: the amazing conversation 
I had listened to; my uncle’s confidence to me; and 
last of all, and which set my pulses throbbing and the 
blood tingling to my finger-tips— Mr. Monroe would 
be in Paris in a day or two! 


CHAPTER XX 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 


4t Great let me call him, for lie conquered me.” 

T HE next morning was Easter, and, dressed in a 
new suit of puce-colored ferrandine, with fresh 
ruffles of finest lace, and a new plume in my hat, I 
walked decorously beside my aunt through the 
thronged streets, every one dressed in his best and 
every one going the same way— to the Church of the 
Madeleine, to see the First Consul attend service. 
The sun was shining, birds were singing, the air vras 
soft and warm and filled with the mingled perfume of 
flowers and incense, borne out through the open doors 
of all the churches. 

The world was happy, and so was I. I was greatly 
excited, too, for I was to behold, for the first time, the 
man who held in his hand the destinies of nations, and 
before whose terrible word even our own proud repub- 
lic trembled. 

I had been three weeks in Paris and had not seen 
him. It seemed to be my ill fortune never to be on the 
streets when he made one of his dashing progresses 
through them, and though there had been several 
levees my wardrobe had not been in condition to at- 
281 


282 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


tend them. At least, so my aunt thought. I think I 
would have been willing to don once more the old 
plum-colored velvets for the sake of seeing the great 
Bonaparte, but Madame Marbois thought otherwise. 

“Nobody is such a stickler for forms and ceremo- 
nies, or such a lover of magnificence, as the First Con- 
sul/’ said she, “and if you want to make a good im- 
pression upon him, or do credit to your family at 
home and to your uncle and to me, you must wait 
for your new costumes.” 

So she had me to the tailor’s, and more suits were 
ordered than I thought I could wear in a lifetime. 
When they came home and my man Caesar (my own 
colored boy whom I had brought with me from home) 
had laid them all out for me in my room, I thought 
them well worth waiting for. There were suits for 
church and suits for dinner, suits for riding and for 
walking, and, most resplendent of all, two court cos- 
tumes. One especially of white satin with much gold 
lace and bullion quite took my breath away. Now I 
have always had a weakness for fine clothes that I 
secretly deprecated, for I feared it was a womanish 
weakness quite unbefitting a soldier of fortune, which 
was the career I had laid out for myself and was quite 
determined upon. Yet I have never found that my lik- 
ing for fine clothes has made me less ready to draw my 
sword to help the innocent or weak, and so I hope it 
may not be a sign in me of any lack of true manliness. 

Be this as it may, I was walking joyously beside my 
aunt that beautiful Easter morning, and part of the 
joy in my heart was for the beautiful puce-colored 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 283 


ferrandine that sat so well and had an air of distinc- 
tion I was sure no other clothes of mine had ever 
had, for these were made in Paris. 

I have no very distinct recollection of the services ; 
indeed, I hardly paid enough attention to them to fol- 
low them decorously, for I was consumed with an 
eager desire for but one event— the entrance of the 
First Consul. 

A subdued murmur (almost, it seemed to me, like 
suppressed “Vive le rois”) announced to me that he 
was just entering the door, and as I sat by the aisle 
down which he was coming, and far to the front, by 
turning in my seat and stretching my neck shame- 
lessly I had time to see him well. 

Could this little fellow, who might easily have stood 
under my arm stretched level with my shoulder, could 
he be the hero of Marengo ! the Dictator of France 
who held all Europe trembling in his grasp ! I think 
that I had heretofore had an unconscious feeling 
that greatness of stature meant greatness of heart 
and mind and courage, and I had gloried in my inches. 
Now I was almost ashamed of them, for this little man 
coming rapidly down the aisle with a firm, quick step 
seemed to breathe power from the chiseled curve of the 
nostril, from the haughty curl of the beautiful lips, 
but most of all from the imperial flash of the dark 
eyes under level brows. If his face had not been so 
full of power, yes, and of arrogance, it would have 
been almost too beautiful for a man ’s face, framed in 
silky brown hair thinning at the temples, but curling 
in one dark lock above the broad white brow. 


284 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


But if it humbled me to see so much greatness in 
such small stature, it comforted me not a little to 
observe that the great man was no despiser of dress. 
He might have been molded into his small-clothes and 
waistcoat of white doeskin, so exactly did they fit 
every line and curve of his perfect figure. His dark- 
blue military coat of finest cloth was set off by heavy 
epaulets of gold and by a broad azure ribbon crossing 
his breast and bearing the jeweled insignia of the 
Legion of Honor. The crimson sword-sash which bore 
his sword sheathed in a scabbard of gold flashing 
with jewels, completed in his own dress the tricolor 
of France. He wore high military boots, I think to 
carry out the military effect of his epaulets and 
sword, for it was in the character of soldier, the hero 
of many battles, the winner of glory for France, that 
the people idolized him. 

To the right and the left, his eagle glance took in 
the whole great congregation, and as he passed it fell 
on me. His glances were never idle ones; I knew he 
had seen me, and my pulses quivered and fluttered like 
a young maiden’s. From that moment I was as much 
his slave as any soldier of La Vendee, and had he not 
himself disillusioned me most bitterly, I should still 
have been regarding him as the hero of my dreams, 
sans peur et sans reproche, the greatest man and 
greatest soldier of all time. I still believe the latter 
title belongs to him, but not the first, for a great man 
must be a good man too, like our Washington, and 
that Bonaparte was not. 

It is no wonder, then, that I was quite beside my- 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 285 


self with excitement when at dejeuner my uncle said 
to me: 

“ Would you like to ride out to St. Cloud with me 
this afternoon? The First Consul has summoned me 
to a conference with him, if I/hiistake not, on the 
subject you heard discussed yesterday.’ ’ 

“Oh, thank you, sir. And shall I be present at 
the conference?” I spoke quickly and foolishly, for 
I was greatly excited. 

My uncle laughed. 

“Well, hardly, my boy, unless you find a way, as 
you did yesterday, of compelling the First Consul 
to invite you to be present. ’ ’ 

I liked not to be laughed at, but I knew it was but 
my uncle’s teasing fashion, and all the way out 
through the beautiful Boulogne woods, the birds 
singing, the sun shining, the soft spring airs blowing, 
the alders and willows pale pink and yellow in the 
distance, the great buds of the horse-chestnuts just 
bursting into leaf and everywhere the vivid green of 
the fresh turf ; my heart beating high with happy ex- 
citement to be in beautiful Paris and on my way to 
historic St. Cloud, where dwelt the most wonderful 
man of the world ; and Fatima prancing and curveting 
under me, her dainty hoofs scarce touching the earth 
as she danced along the green allees of St. Cloud’s 
beautiful park, sharing my happy excitement (though 
only, I suppose, for a horse’s natural joy in trees and 
grass and sunshine) —all that swift and beautiful 
ride, galloping beside my uncle’s coach, his words 
rang in my ears, and I longed with all my heart to be 


286 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


present at that conference : not so much to hear what 
was said as to see the great Bonaparte saying it. / 

I parted from my uncle at one of the great foun- 
tains, he riding up in his coach to the palace doors, 
and Fatima and I starting off on an exploring tour 
around the park. He would not hear to my waiting 
for him, for he said he might be detained for hours, 
and indeed it was possible the Consul would keep him 
all night at St. Cloud, as sometimes happened, to call 
upon at any hour of the night when some new sug- 
gestion occurred to him. 

Riding fast, as was my custom when alone with 
Fatima, it did not take us long to exhaust the beauties 
of the park, and my eyes began to turn longingly to- 
ward the palace. Somewhere within its stately walls 
I supposed the conference was going on. Verily, there 
were some compensations in diplomacy when it gave 
a man like my uncle a chance to hold close converse 
with a man like the First Consul. (And in that 
I do not intend to speak slightingly of my Uncle 
Francois, for he was ever in my regard the most ad- 
mirable of men. Only, it seemed to me then that to 
be able to talk familiarly with the great Bonaparte 
was a privilege above the deserts of ordinary mortals.) 

I intended to remain at St. Cloud until toward even- 
ing, for if the conference should prove short I might 
still have the pleasure of my uncle’s company on the 
homeward trip. But time began to hang heavily on 
my hands, and it occurred to me that I would ask 
the sentry, whom I had seen from a distance walking 
up and down in front of the main entrance, whether 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 287 


it were possible to gain admission to the palace. I 
thought it probable that it was not open to visitors, 
since the First Consul was occupying it, but it would 
do no harm to find out, and if by chance I should be 
admitted, I would at least have the pleasure of wan- 
dering through the rooms where he dwelt. 

It was necessary first to dispose of Fatima, and a 
thicket of evergreen at one side of the palace caught 
my eye as affording a grateful shade from the warm 
afternoon sun (which so early in the season could be 
found only under evergreens) and a hiding-place from 
any prowling thief who might want to steal her, or 
from any troublesome guard who might come upon 
her and carry her off to the Consul ’s stables. 

So into the thicket I rode, following a winding path 
that led toward the upper end near the palace, and 
at the very upper edge I found just what I wanted— 
a clump of bushes so thick set that they formed an al- 
most impenetrable screen. They were lower than the 
other evergreens— not much higher than my horse’s 
ears, but that was high enough. Into the midst of 
this clump I rode Fatima and dismounted. 

* ‘ Stand here, Sweetheart, ’ ’ I said softly, 1 1 and 
budge not a step for any man but your master . 9 9 

She rubbed her nose against my shoulder in token 
that she understood, and I whispered again in her 
ear: 

“Not a whinny, not a sound, my Beauty,” and left 
her, feeling sure no man could steal her and no guard 
could lead her away by guile or force, nor would she 
betray her presence there by any noise. 


288 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


As I left the evergreens, intending to go around to 
the front of the building and speak to the sentry, I 
saw, coming down the path toward me, a young and 
pretty woman, who, I recognized by her dress, must 
be in service at the palace. 

“I will inquire from her,” I said to myself 
promptly, “for she will know as well as the sentry 
whether there is any admission, and she will no doubt 
have a much pleasanter way of saying either yes or 
no.” 

So, as she was about to pass me with a little curtsy 
and a pretty smile, I stopped her. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, and doffed my hat, “is it 
permitted to see the palace to-day?” 

“No, Monsieur,” she answered, “unless one is in- 
vited or has business of importance with the First 
Consul.” 

Now I have ever had great faith in woman’s wit, 
and especially a Frenchwoman’s, and it suddenly 
struck me if this one should prove as quick-witted as 
most of her kind, she would know how to secure my 
admission into the palace ; and if she should prove as 
kindly disposed as I believed the sight of gold and 
a pleasant word might make her, then was my success 
assured. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, and my manner was as 
deferential as it might have been to her mistress. 
“I am not invited, and I have no business of impor- 
tance with the First Consul ; but I am from Amer^ 
ica, and it would please me greatly to see the rooms 
where the famous general lives. Cannot Madernoi- 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 289 


selle think of a way?” and I slipped into her hand a 
louis d’or. 

She curtsied again and smiled again, and then she 
answered : 

“It is difficult, Monsieur, hut I have a friend on 
guard in the upper corridor. If I can arrange with 
him to let us pass, I can show Monsieur ;the grand 
salon, the little salon, and the state dining-room. 
Would that please Monsieur?” 

“Vastly,” I answered, for though it might not 
be seeing all I would like to see, it would be doing 
something to while away the tedium of waiting, and 
there seemed a little of the spice of adventure about 
it that pleased my restless spirit. 

“I will go and consult Gaston,” said Mademoiselle 
Felice (for that, she told me, was her pretty name, and 
I took it as a felicitous omen), “and I will return in 
five minutes. If Monsieur will await me by the pines, 
he will not have to wait long.” 

Yet it seemed long. I am sure many five minutes 
had passed, and I had begun to think I would never 
see again either my gold piece or my pretty Felice, 
when she came tripping up in an entirely different 
direction from the one in which she had left me. 

She had had trouble. Gaston had scruples. Sup- 
pose harm were intended his general? Women were 
easily deceived. Her “American” might be a British 
assassin in disguise. She had had to make herself re- 
sponsible— she, Felice!— for my innocence and honor. 
She had also been obliged to show Gaston the piece 
of gold I had given her and to assure him there would 

19 


290 


THE HOSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


be another for him if he were complaisant. I judged, 
also, that she had found it necessary to offer him a 
bribe quite as tangible as the gold piece but less 
mercenary, for her face was rosier and her eyes 
brighter and her hair a little more disheveled than 
when I had first seen her. 

And now began a real adventure, for Felice assured 
me much caution would be necessary. How we both 
slipped out of the pine thicket, she some distance 
ahead, I strolling carelessly behind, how by almost 
insensible little signs she indicated to me when to 
advance and when to stay my steps; how she finally 
guided me through a narrow rear entrance and by 
dark corridors and winding staircases to the very 
corridor Gaston was guarding; and how I slipped 
another gold piece into Gaston’s hand as we passed 
him, would be too long in the telling. 

Gaston was doing sentry duty before two doors some 
twenty paces apart. One of them opened into a dark 
side corridor (where we had passed him and I had 
slipped the gold into his hand), and the other into the 
head of the main corridor. We had just entered the 
main corridor, and Felice was leading the way into 
the grand salon, when she turned quickly : 

“Go back, Monsieur,” she said in an excited whis- 
per, “here comes an officer!” 

I had caught sight of him, too, and I was the more 
ready to turn back quickly, because in my hasty 
glimpse the officer had looked to me very much like 
the Chevalier Le Moyne. I thought it was more than 
likely I was mistaken,, byt .1 did not wish to run any 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 2PI 


possible risk of being seen by him, and I hoped that 
in the semi-obscurity of that part of the corridor 
he had either not seen us at all or at least not recog- 
nized us. 

We fled precipitately back through the dark side 
corridor, I with a keen feeling of elation (for a sense 
of risk or peril of any kind always sends my spirits to 
the highest point), but Felice, I believe, beginning to 
repent of her bargain. 

“ Monsieur / 9 she whispered, “we will go back the 
way we came— ” but what further she was about to 
say I know not, for at that moment a door opened at 
the farther end of the side corridor. It was a door we 
must pass in finding our way out, and through it now 
we heard much loud laughing and loud talking of 
men. Evidently a party at cards was breaking up, 
and through that open door some of the players were 
about to pass. Our retreat was cut off. 

Felice clutched her hair in desperation. 

“Ah, mon Dieu!” she moaned, “I will lose my 
place ! I will lose my life !” 

I had hardly time to think of my own plight, I was 
so sorry for her distress, and so remorseful to think I 
had brought her into such straits for the sake of a 
silly adventure. 

But an idea struck Felice. We had come to a stand 
beside Gaston and the one of the two doors he was 
guarding which opened into the side corridor. He had 
himself stopped a moment in his pacing to and fro, 
perplexed by our dilemma. 

“Quick, Gaston/ ’ Felice whispered eagerly, “let 


292 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Monsieur into the dressing-room closet; it is the only 
place !” 

Gaston seemed to demur, but Felice overruled him 
imperiously. 

“You must, Gaston! And be quick! Would you 
have Monsieur Fouche throw us both into prison? I 
will be back for him in a few minutes, as soon as all 
is quiet.” 

Gaston hesitated no longer. He threw open the 
door before which we were standing, and together they 
hurried me into a room which I saw at once was a 
dressing-room belonging to a gentleman. 

“You must be very still, Monsieur,” whispered 
Felice; then she opened a door and thrust me into a 
dark closet, closing the door noiselessly behind me as 
she whispered, “I will return in a few minutes.” 

I was but as wax in her hands, for having led her 
into such distress and peril, I felt that I must submit 
to any means that would save her from disastrous re- 
mits. Yet I liked not being shut up in a dark closet 
in a gentleman ’s dressing-room. I began, too, to think 
of my own peril, and for a full minute after finding 
myself in my hiding-place my knees did so shake be- 
neath me, and my heart did so pound within me, I 
w r as as one deaf and unconscious to all surroundings. 

But as my excitement began to calm itself I became 
aware that I had for some time been hearing several 
voices : one, which did most of the talking, high, rasp- 
ing, vehement, passionate ; the other two, making brief 
or monosyllabic replies, low-toned and restrained. I 
began to perceive, too, that I was not entirely in the 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 293 


dark. A faint light was coming through between 
slightly parted curtains which seemed to separate my 
closet from some other apartment than the dressing- 
room. I looked through this aperture, barely wide 
enough for the line of vision, not wide enough to be- 
tray me to any one in the room beyond, especially 
since I was in the dark and the Easter sun was flood- 
ing the richly furnished apartment. 

Standing in an attitude of respect on either side of 
a low marble mantel bearing a wonderful golden 
clock stood two gentlemen. One of them was my 
uncle, Monsieur Marbois, and the other, whom I did 
not know, I learned later was Minister Deeres. Ges- 
ticulating vehemently and speaking with great excite- 
ment, through the center of the room back and forth 
strode rapidly the First Consul ! 

I was overwhelmed at the sight. By what trick of 
fate had I been thrust into the very midst of this con- 
ference at which I had so longed to be present? My 
blood rushed through my eins at such tumultuous 
pace as carried my reason with it. No thought of lis- 
tening to what was not intended for me to hear en- 
tered my mind, only a great joy that I was in the 
midst of some strange adventure such as I had read 
of in books, where wonderful things happen to the 
hero who hides behind an arras. And no more won- 
derful thing could happen to me than to be seeing and 
hearing the great Bonaparte ! 

And this is what he was saying : 

“I know the full value of Louisiana, and I have 
been desirous of repairing the fault of the French ne- 


294 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


gotiator who abandoned it in 1763. A few lines of a 
treaty have restored it to me, and I have scarcely re- 
covered it when I must expect to lose it. But if it 
escapes from me,” he stopped and turned suddenly 
to the two ministers, lifting a threatening hand, “it 
shall one day cost dearer to those who oblige me to 
strip myself of it than to those to whom I wish to de- 
liver it.” 

I thought at first this threat was uttered against the 
United States, and so terrible did he look, so like an 
avenging fury, that I shuddered as I thought of my 
country the object of his vindictive wrath. But his 
next words enlightened me. He resumed his rapid 
stride and went on speaking with the same excite- 
ment : 

“The English have successively taken from France 
Canada, Cape Breton, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, 
and India. They are engaged in exciting troubles in 
San Domingo. They shall not have the Mississippi, 
which they covet . 

“Louisiana is nothing in comparison with their con- 
quests in all parts of the globe, and yet the jealousy 
they feel at the restoration of this colony to the sover- 
eignty of France acquaints me with their wish to take 
possession of it, and it is thus they will begin the war. 

“They have twenty ships of war in the Gulf of Mex- 
ico ; they sail over those seas as sovereigns ! The con- 
quest of Louisiana would be easy, if they only took the 
trouble to make a descent there. I have not a moment 
to lose in putting it out of their reach ! I know not 
whether they are not already there. It is their usual 








t 









o 






















BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 295 


course, and if I had been in their place, I would not 
have waited. I wish, if there is still time, to take away 
from them any idea that they may have of ever pos- 
sessing that colony. ’ ’ 

Once more he stopped and faced the two ministers, 
and gazed at them steadily for a moment, first one, 
then the other, before he uttered his next words. I 
know not whether he paused because he hesitated to 
utter them, or because he wished to make them more 
forcible. Then he said slowly and impressively, with 
no trace of the excitement that had characterized his 
former words : 

“I think of ceding it to the United States.’ ’ 

If he had expected to create a sensation he was not 
disappointed ; the irrepressible start of each, the glow- 
ing eyes, the eager desire to speak expressed in both 
countenances were abundant evidences of it, and I 
in my dark closet was far more excited than either: 
for here was more than my wildest dreams to be real- 
ized. But Bonaparte had not finished his speech; 
with a gesture restraining them from giving utterance 
to the words that were hurrying to their lips, he 
went on : 

“You will say that I can scarcely cede it to them, 
for it is not yet in our possession. If, however, I leave 
the least time to our enemies, I shall transmit only an 
empty title to those republicans whose friendship I 
seek. They ask of me only one town in Louisiana ; but 
I already consider the colony as entirely lost, and it 
appears to me that in the hands of this growing power 
it will be more useful to the policy of France* and 


296 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


even to its commerce, than if I should attempt to keep 
it. Citizen Minister/ ’ looking at my uncle, “ what is 
your opinion ? ’ ’ 

My uncle, who had been all eagerness to speak at 
first, seemed to hesitate now that the opportunity was 
given him. 

“I believe, Citizen First Consul/ ’ he said slowly, 
“that we should not hesitate to make a sacrifice of that 
which is about slipping away from us. War with 
England is inevitable. Shall we be able with inferior 
naval forces to defend Louisiana against that power? 
At the time of the discovery of Louisiana the neigh- 
boring provinces were as feeble as herself. They are 
now powerful and Louisiana is still in her infancy. 
The country is scarcely at all inhabited ; you have not 
fifty soldiers there. Where are your means of sending 
garrisons thither? Can we restore fortifications that 
are in ruins, and construct a long chain of forts upon 
a frontier of four hundred leagues ? If England lets 
you undertake these things, it is because they will 
drain your resources, and she will feel a secret joy in 
seeing you exhaust yourself in efforts of which she 
alone will derive the profit. You will send out a 
squadron ; but while it is crossing the oceans, the col- 
ony will fall, and the squadron will in its turn be in 
great danger. Louisiana is open to the English from 
the north by the Great Lakes, and if, to the south, they 
show themselves at the mouth of the Mississippi, New 
Orleans will immediately fall into their hands. This 
conquest would be still easier to the Americans: they 
can reach the Mississippi by several navigable rivers, 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 297 


and to be masters of the country it will be sufficient 
for them to enter it. The colony has existed for a cen- 
tury, and, in spite of efforts and sacrifices of every 
kind, the last account of its population and resources 
attests its weakness. If it becomes a French colony 
and acquires increased importance, there will be in 
its very prosperity a germ of independence which 
will not be long in developing itself. The more it 
flourishes the less chance shall we have of preserv- 
ing it. 

“The French have attempted to form colonies in 
several parts of the continent of North America. Their 
efforts have everywhere proved abortive. The Eng- 
lish are patient and laborious; they do not fear the 
solitude and silence of newly settled countries. The 
Frenchman, lively and active, requires society; he is 
fond of conversing with neighbors. He willingly en- 
ters on the experiment of cultivating the soil, but at the 
first disappointment quits the spade and ax for the 
chase.’ ’ 

Bonaparte, as my uncle ceased talking, had thrown 
himself into a fauteuil and signed to the others to 
sit down. He had listened with keen attention to my 
uncle’s long speech, but now he interrupted him 
abruptly and harshly. 

“How does it happen that the French, who are in- 
capable of succeeding in a continental colony, have 
always made great progress in the West Indies?” 

“Because,” replied Monsieur Marbois, “the slaves 
perform all the labors. The whites, who would soon 
be exhausted by the heat of the climate, have, however. 


298 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

the vigor of mind necessary to direct their opera- 
tions. * 7 

“By whom is the land cultivated in Louisiana V 7 
asked the First Consul. 

“Slavery,” answered my uncle, “has given Loui- 
siana half her population. An inexcusable imprudence 
was committed in suddenly granting to the slaves of 
San Domingo a liberty for which they had not been 
prepared. The blacks and whites both have been 
victims of this great fault.” 

“I am undecided,” said Bonaparte, “whether it 
would be better to maintain or abolish slavery in 
Louisiana . 9 7 

“Of all the scourges that have afflicted the human 
race,” responded my uncle, “slavery is the most de- 
testable! But even humanity requires great precau- 
tions in the application of the remedy, and you cannot 
apply it if Louisiana should again become French. 
Governments still half resist emancipation: they toler- 
ate in secret what they ostensibly condemn, and they 
themselves are embarrassed by their false position. 
The general sentiment of the world is in favor of 
emancipation; it is in vain that the colonists and 
planters wish to arrest a movement which public opin- 
ion approves. The occupation of Louisiana — a colony 
with slaves— will occasion us more expense than it will 
afford us profit.” 

As my uncle ceased speaking, Bonaparte turned to 
Minister Deeres and with a motion of his hand in- 
dicated that he was ready to hear his opinion. The 
minister began eagerly : 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 299 


“We are still at peace with England,’ ’ said he; 
“the colony has just been ceded to us; it depends on 
the First Consul to preserve it. It would not be wise 
in him to abandon, for fear of a doubtful danger, the 
most important establishment that we can form out of 
France, and despoil ourselves of it for no other reason 
than the possibility of a war; it would be as well, if 
not better, that it should be taken from us by force 
of arms. 

“You will not acknowledge, by a resignation of 
Louisiana, that England is sovereign mistress of the 
seas, that she is there invulnerable, and that no one 
can possess colonies except at her good pleasure! It 
does not become you to fear the kings of England ! If 
they should seize Louisiana, as some would have you 
fear, Hanover would be immediately in your hands, 
as a certain pledge of its restoration. France, de- 
prived of her navy and her colonies, is stripped of half 
her splendor and of a great part of her strength. 
Louisiana can indemnify us for all our losses. There 
does not exist on the globe a single port, a single city, 
susceptible of becoming as important as New Orleans, 
and the neighborhood of the American States already 
makes it one of the most commercial in the world. The 
Mississippi does not reach there until it has received 
twenty other rivers, most of which surpass in size the 
finest rivers of Europe. 

“The navigation to the Indies, by doubling the 
Cape of Good Hope, has changed the course of Euro- 
pean trade and ruined Venice and Genoa. What will 
be its direction if, at the Isthmus of Panama, a simple 


300 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


canal should be opened to connect the one ocean with 
the other? The revolution which navigation will 
then experience will be still more considerable, and 
the circumnavigation of the globe will become easier 
than the long voyages that are now made in going to 
and returning from India. Louisiana will be on this 
new route, and it will then be acknowledged that this 
possession is of inestimable value. 

“Finally, France, after her long troubles, requires 
such a colony for her internal pacification; it will be 
for our country what a century ago were for Eng- 
land the settlements which the emigrants from the 
three kingdoms have raised to so high a degree of 
prosperity. It will be the asylum of our religious and 
political dissenters ; it will cure a part of the maladies 
which the Revolution has caused, and be the supreme 
conciliator of all the parties into which we are di- 
vided. You will there find the remedies for which 
you search with so much solicitude ! ’ ’ 

I thought this a very bold speech, and it was uttered 
with much fire and enthusiasm. I could not be sure 
how the Consul took it, for he said not a word through 
it all. When the minister had finished speaking he 
dismissed them both with a few words, but telling 
them he should expect them to remain all night. 

As the door closed behind the two ministers, Bona- 
parte threw himself back in his chair, his arms folded 
across his breast, his head drooping forward, in an 
attitude of deep thought. It seemed to me more than 
likely that Minister Deeres ’s words had touched his 
pride and his patriotism, and he was hesitating now at 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 301 


the thought of getting rid of France’s last important 
colony. 

He was interrupted in his reverie by an officer bring- 
ing in the despatches from London which had just ar- 
rived, and he sent word by the officer to have Minister 
Marbois sent to him immediately. 

It was only a few moments until the return of my 
uncle, but in the interval I could see that Bonaparte 
was glancing through the despatches with such light- 
ning rapidity that to me, for whom all reading is slow 
work, it seemed impossible he should have grasped 
their meaning. As Monsieur Marbois entered the 
apartment Bonaparte greeted him. 

“Citizen Minister,” he said, “the despatches from 
London have arrived. Have you seen them?” 

“I was just reading them,” replied my uncle, 
“when you sent for me.” . 

“Did you see that England is preparing for war? 
That both naval and military preparations are going 
forward with extraordinary rapidity?” 

“Yes,” said the minister, “so I understand.” 

“Perhaps you saw, too, that in the American Con- 
gress Mr. Ross proposed that the President should, 
raise fifty thousand troops and capture New Or- 
leans?” 

“Yes,” repeated my uncle, “I saw it, and I regret 
greatly that any cause of difference should arise be- 
tween our countries.” 

The Consul sprang to his feet and resumed his 
rapid striding up and down the room without uttering 
a word for full two minutes, but with a deep frown 


302 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


between his eyes, as I could see whenever he faced 
me in his hurried pacing to and fro. 

Suddenly he stopped and turned to my uncle. 

‘ ‘ Irresolution and deliberation are no longer in sea- 
son, ’ ’ he said slowly, and then added with sudden fire : 

“I renounce Louisiana! It is not only New Or- 
leans I will cede, it is the whole colony without reserva- 
tion. I renounce it with the greatest regret! To at- 
tempt obstinately to retain it would be the greatest 
folly. I direct you to negotiate this affair with the 
envoys of the United States. Do not even await the 
arrival of Mr. Monroe; have an interview to-morrow 
with Mr. Livingston. But I require a great deal of 
money for this war with England, and I would not 
like to commence it with new contributions. I will 
be moderate, in consideration of the necessity in which 
I am of making a sale; but keep this to yourself. I 
want fifty millions, and for less than that sum I will 
not treat; I would rather make a desperate attempt 
to keep these fine countries. To-morrow you shall have 
full power. ’ ’ 

I think my uncle was somewhat aghast at the sud- 
denness of the decision to sell the whole country, 
though he had himself advised it, and still more at 
the great responsibility thrust upon him of conduct- 
ing the negotiations in place of the Minister of For- 
eign Relations. Perhaps, too, now that the sale was 
fully determined upon, he was touched with regrets 
and misgivings. At any rate, he said, somewhat hesi- 
tatingly : 

“You feel sure, Citizen Consul, that we have a right 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 303 


to cede the sovereignty of a people without consulting 
the people themselves! Have we a right to abandon 
what the Germans call the souls ? Can they be the 
subject of a contract of sale or exchange ?” 

Now I really think from what I had seen of Bona- 
parte ’s reverie while the minister was out of the room, 
of his frowning cogitations in that rapid walk to and 
fro, and of the solemnity of his manner when he finally 
announced his determination to sell, that he had been 
troubled by the same misgivings. But none the less 
did his lip curl satirically as he listened to my uncle, 
and his eyes narrow and glow with a malevolent fire. 
He hardly w 7 aited for him to finish till he burst forth 
bitterly : 

“ You are giving me, in all its perfection, the ideol- 
ogy of the law of nature and nations ! But I require 
money to make war on the richest nation of the world. 
Send your maxims to the London market ! I am sure 
they will be greatly admired there ; and yet no great 
attention is paid to them when the question is the oc- 
cupation of the finest regions of Asia !” 

I thought my uncle would have wilted under such 
bitter sarcasm, for never have I seen anything more 
malevolent than Bonaparte’s whole aspect, and I trem- 
bled for him. But he seemed not greatly afraid of the 
great man’s bluster, and persisted in his argument 
when it seemed to me the part of wisdom would have 
been to keep silence. 

“But, Citizen Consul,” he urged, “are you not 
afraid by ceding such great possessions to America 
you may make her in the course of two or three cen- 


304 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


turies too powerful for Europe— the mistress of the 
world ? ’ ’ 

The Consul’s lip curled again. He answered in a 
harsh voice : 

“My foresight does not embrace such remote fears. 
I have no children ; after me the deluge ! Besides, we 
may hereafter expect rivalries among the members of 
the Union. The confederations that are called per- 
petual only last till one of the contracting parties finds 
it to his interest to break them. ’ ’ 

The minister made no reply, though Bonaparte 
waited a moment as if .expecting one. Then he went 
on : 

“Mr. Monroe is on the point of arriving. To this 
minister, going a thousand leagues from his constitu- 
ents, the President must have given secret instructions 
for the stipulation of the payments to be made, more 
extensive than the ostensible authorization of Con- 
gress. Neither this minister nor his colleague is pre- 
pared for a decision which goes infinitely beyond any- 
thing they are about to ask us. Begin by making the 
overture without any subterfuge. You will acquaint 
me, day by day, hour by hour, of your progress. The 
cabinet of London is informed of the measures adopted 
at Washington, but it can have no suspicion of those 
I am now taking. Observe the greatest secrecy, and 
recommend it to the American ministers: they have 
not a less interest than yourself in conforming to this 
counsel. You will correspond with Monsieur de Tal- 
leyrand, who alone knows my intentions. Keep him 
informed of the progress of this affair.” 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 305 


All this was uttered in a sharp clipping tone of 
voice, at times harsh and rasping, that carried with it 
an inconceivable effect of autocratic power. As he 
finished he made a gesture of dismissal, but as the min- 
ister was about to withdraw he called him back again. 

‘ 4 Monsieur Marbois,” he said in a far gentler tone 
than he had used at all heretofore, “ there will be a 
treaty drawn up between you and the American min- 
isters, of course, and I would like to write one article 
of that treaty. If you will sit down a few moments I 
will not detain you long.” 

My uncle bowed and seated himself, and with mar- 
velous rapidity Bonaparte’s pen flew over the sheet 
before him. In scarcely more than a minute’s time 
he looked up from his paper. 

4 'This is the article, Monsieur Marbois, that I wish 
you to make it your business^ to see embodied some- 
where in the treaty.” And then he read slowly, in a 
firm, clear voice, with no longer any rasping tones : 

‘ 1 The inhabitants of the ceded territory shall be in- 
corporated in the Union of the United States, and ad- 
mitted as soon as possible, according to the principles 
of the Federal Constitution, to the enjoyment of all 
the rights, advantages, and immunities of citizens of 
the United States. A'And in the meantime they shall be 
maintained and protected in the free enjoyment of 
their liberty, property, and the religion which they 
profess. ’ ’ 

The Consul rose to his feet as he finished reading 
and extended the paper toward my uncle. 

"Citizen Minister,” he said (and I almost thought 
20 


306 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


there was a ring of sadness in his tone, but that I 
could not believe such an emotion possible to the im- 
perious conqueror), “let the Louisianians know that 
we separate ourselves from them with regret ; that we 
stipulate in their favor everything that they can de- 
sire ; and let them hereafter, happy in their indepen- 
dence, recollect that they have been Frenchmen, and 
that France, in ceding them, has secured for them ad- 
vantages which they could not have obtained from a 
European power, however paternal it might have been. 
Let them retain for us sentiments of affection ; and 
may their common origin, descent, language, and cus- 
toms perpetuate the friendship.’ ’ 

He finished speaking, and turned his back abruptly 
upon my uncle, who bowed silently and withdrew. I 
could not see the face of either, but I believe both were 
too deeply moved to utter another word. As my uncle 
left the room, Bonaparte threw himself once more into 
his deep-armed chair in the same attitude of reverie 
he had before maintained in the interval of the minis- 
ter’s absence— arms folded, chin sunk deep on his 
breast. 

It seemed to me a long time that he sat thus, for I 
was growing every moment more anxious for my own 
safe escape from my hiding-place. Felice had prom- 
ised to return for me in a few moments if the way was 
open, and I was sure it must have been more nearly 
hours than moments that I had been watching the 
foremost man of all the world decide the fate of a 
people and the future of my own proud nation. I 
had been so intensely interested that I had not noted 


BONAPARTE GIVES ENGLAND A RIVAL 307 


the flight of time, but now that the First Consul sat 
wrapped in thought, I, too, began to think, to wonder, 
and to grow every moment more anxious. What had 
become of my little guide ? Had she forsaken me and 
left me to my fate ? And should she come for me now, 
would I be able, with my clumsy movements, to escape 
unheard, when the room was no longer ringing with 
the rasping tones of Bonaparte? 

There was a deep-drawn sigh from the chair of the 
First Consul. He unfolded his arms, flung back his 
head, and sprang to his feet, once more pacing rapidly 
back and forth. Suddenly he stopped, lifted one 
hand as if calling on Heaven to witness, and ex- 
claimed aloud: 

i 1 This accession of territory strengthens forever the 
power of the United States! I have just given to 
England a maritime rival that will sooner or later 
humble her pride !” 

His hand dropped upon a bell which he rang vio- 
lently. Instantly there was a little sound of scratch- 
ing on the panel of a door leading into an apartment 
beyond. 

‘ ‘ Enter !” said Bonaparte, and there glided silently 
into the room Rustan, the famous Mameluke atten- 
dant of whom I had heard much. 

“ I will dress for dinner, Rustan/ ’ said the First 
Consul; “call my valet and tell him to prepare my 
bath.” 


CHAPTER XXI 

A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


« The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole 
Can never he a mouse of any soul.” 

P REPARE my bath!” Did ever such simple 
words have so dire a sound? Now was all hope 
of escape cut off; for was not the Consul s bath m he 
very room into which the closet where I was hiding 
opened, and through which I had expected to make 
my exit as I had made my entrance ? Now did I curse 
the folly that had led me into such a trap for the sake 

of a mere adventure. 

Whereas a moment ago I had been congratulating 
myself on the spirit of enterprise and daring that had 
led me to be the witness of such great and stirring 
events I now despised it all as a silly boyishness which 
had brought me into what seemed like to prove some- 
thing more than a foolish scrape. Nor could I help 
reflecting that whether death or disgrace (which 
seemed to me far worse than death) awaited me, it 
would not affect me alone. My uncle’s reputation, 
and honor also, might easily be involved m Ins 
nephew’s downfall. And, most intolerable °f all, what 
would the Comtesse de Baloit think when she should 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


309 


come to hear (as it was inevitable that she would) that 
I had been caught spying like any common eaves- 
dropper ?— found hid in the Consul's private closet, 
taken and done to death, as I had not the least doubt 
in the world I should be ! 

Yet it was not in me to wait idly for the worst to 
happen ; I began at once to plan other means of escape 
than those I had been relying upon. If I could not 
make my exit through the dressing-room, why not 
through the other apartment, from which my closet 
was separated only by a curtain ? 

As far as I could judge, the apartment had three 
entrance-doors. One which was not within my range 
of vision was the one by which the ministers had with- 
drawn and through which my uncle had returned. 
This, no doubt, was the main entrance, and led into 
some public corridor, where detection by passers-by 
would be certain, to say nothing of the fact that the 
door was no doubt strongly guarded, and by a soldier 
who would not be so complacent as Gaston had been 
(having neither handled my gold nor tasted a maid- 
en's kisses as reward for his complacency). 

The second door led into the dressing-room, where 
even now I could hear the splashing of water and the 
vigorous preparations of the valet for the Consul's 
bath. That, of course, was not to be considered. The 
third one was the one through which I had seen Rus- 
tan glide; and at the thought of entering that room, 
and falling into the tender mercies of the mysterious 
Mameluke, I shuddered. A stealthy stiletto with poi- 
soned point I had no doubt would make short work 


310 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

with me. And even could it be possible to seize a mo- 
ment when Rustan was out of the room in attendance 
on his master, it was more than likely the room would 
prove a cul-de-sac and I would be more securely 
trapped than ever. 

In the midst of these perplexing meditations I 
heard a heavy splash, followed by a vigorous sputter- 
ing, that assured me the First Consul was already in 
his bath. A moment later I heard a scratching at the 
door through which my uncle had departed. ( T is the 
fashion, I have heard, at the Tuileries and St. Cloud, 
to scratch instead of knock.) Rustan answered it im- 
mediately, and led the gentleman who entered di- 
rectly through the outer apartment to the dressing- 
room. This seemed a novel procedure to me, but I re- 
membered that the French often received callers at the 
toilet, and perhaps it was nothing unusual for the 
First Consul to receive his friends in the bath. 

I could hear all that went on in the dressing-room ; 
even the slightest sound was as audible in my closet as 
if no door intervened. I was surprised at this until I 
discovered that just higher than my head a small 
panel, not more than three inches square, had been re- 
moved from the door of the closet, admitting a little 
light and a little air. It was through this opening that 
sounds were conveyed, and it was through it that I 
heard the Consul’s voice a moment after the visitor 
was conducted through the outer apartment. 

“ Ah, my dear Lucien ! Where were you last night, 
and where was my brother Joseph? Did you not in- 
tend to join me at the Theatre Frangais? I expected 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


311 


you, and Talma showed great power in ‘ Hamlet.’ I 
was surprised and disappointed not to see you both 
there.’ ’ 

I do not remember what answer his brother made, 
but Bonaparte replied with the greatest good humor : 

“You might have seen, too, that the Parisians al- 
ways like to see me. In fact, I scarcely flattered my- 
self they would ever become so sympathetic when I 
had to shoot them down that October day in 1795.” 

I could scarcely believe it was the First Consul 
speaking, so unlike were his tones to any I had heard 
from him before,— playful, affectionate, almost ten- 
der,— and I said to myself, “Ah, this despot has a 
heart ! He loves his brother . 9 9 

I did not hear anything more that was said for a 
while, for I was revolving in my mind all possible 
modes of escape. I had just come to the conclusion 
that the only safe way was to remain quietly where 
I was until Bonaparte should have finished his bath 
and left his dressing-room (which I felt sure could 
not be long, since he had already been in the water 
for more than a quarter of an hour), when I heard 
again that peculiar little scratching sound on the 
dressing-room door, and Rustan entered, announcing 
to the Consul his brother Joseph. 

“Let him come in,” said the Consul; “I shall stay 
in the bath a quarter of an hour longer.” 

Black despair seized me. A quarter of an hour 
seemed to me interminable when I knew not at what 
moment the valet would fling open the closet door in 
search for some article of dress, and discover me. 


312 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


There was nothing to do, however, but to make the 
best of it, hoping against hope that the great Bona- 
parte, who seemed inordinately fond of his bath, 
would some time be through with it and leave his 
dressing-room free for me to traverse it in safety. 
For I had made up my mind that I would wait no 
longer for Felice; the first minute that I could be 
quite sure that the dressing-room was vacant, I would 
open my closet door and escape, trusting to find Gas- 
ton still on guard at the outer dressing-room door. 

It occurred to me that if I were only a little taller, 
and could look through that open panel just above my 
head, it would be well, for then I could assure myself 
that the room was empty before attempting my es- 
cape, and not stumble upon some lurking valet or 
Mameluke. Then I remembered what I had noticed 
on entering the closet, but had not thought of since, 
a low three-legged taboret, not more than five inches 
high, but quite high enough, were I once upon it, to 
enable me to look through the open panel. I stooped 
carefully down and felt around the floor of the closet 
in the dark. My hand struck against it. I picked it 
up and set it noiselessly directly under the small open- 
ing, and slowly and carefully, and absolutely without 
making a sound, I mounted upon it. 

Just below me was the most remarkable group I had 
ever looked upon, or, I have no doubt, ever shall look 
upon. Respectfully standing near the bath were the 
two brothers Lucien and Joseph, and it was easy for 
me to decide at a glance which was Joseph and which 
Lucien ; for I had heard much of both and knew their 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


313 


characteristics, though I knew not their faces. Jo- 
seph was the handsomer of the two, and looked more 
like his august brother, with the same fiery eye and 
mobile mouth, showing the same excitable tempera- 
ment. Lucien had the calmer face that belongs to a 
scholar, though in some respects I thought it a 
stronger one than his brother Joseph’s. In the marble 
bath lay Bonaparte, only his head and a little of his 
shoulders visible, for the water was frothy and opaque 
from quantities of cologne, whose sweet, pungent odor 
rose to my nostrils refreshingly. Bonaparte was in 
the act of speaking to Joseph : 

“Well, brother, have you spoken to Lucien?” 

“What about?” said Joseph. 

“Of our plan as to Louisiana— don’t you know?” 

“Of your plan, you mean, my dear brother; you 
cannot have forgotten that— far from being mine—” 

Bonaparte interrupted him with good-natured 
scorn. 

“Well, well, preacher, I don’t need to discuss that 
with you; you are so obstinate. I like better to talk 
about serious things with Lucien; for, although he 
sometimes takes it into his head to go against me, he 
knows how to give up to my idea when I think fit to 
change his.” 

Joseph’s color rose quickly, and he spoke with some 
spirit : 

“You are unjust enough to attribute to obstinacy 
what is the effect of wise reflection.” 

Lucien was evidently afraid of an outbreak, and he 
interposed quickly and laughingly : 


314 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


4 4 Then that means, brother Joseph, that I hold my 
ideas so lightly I can easily be reasoned out of them.” 

44 Ah, my dear boy,” said Bonaparte, with affection- 
ate raillery, 4 4 fear not that any one will accuse thee 
of lightness. Thou art more likely to be named 4 Iron- 
head/ ” 

For a few minutes the two brothers playfully called 
each other nicknames, going back to the days of their 
boyhood in Corsica, while Joseph stood by, looking 
bored and eveiy moment growing more impatient. 
Finally he broke in quite brusquely : 

4 4 Well, you say nothing more about your famous 
plan!” 

Bonaparte turned at once to Lucien. 

4 4 Well, Lucien, I have made up my mind to sell 
Louisiana to the Americans. ’ ’ 

4 4 Indeed ! ’ ’ said Lucien, in a tone of curiosity, but 
with so much coolness I suspected he was not hearing 
the announcement for the first time. 

Bonaparte turned to Joseph with an air of triumph. 

4 4 Well, Joseph, you see Lucien does not utter loud 
cries about this thing. Yet he almost has a right to, 
seeing that Louisiana is, so to speak, his own con- 
quest. ’ ’ 

I knew what the Consul meant by that, for it was 

* 

Lucien who had negotiated the San Ildefonso treaty 
which gave Louisiana to France. This speech of his 
brother’s seemed to irritate Joseph still more, and he 
replied quite sharply : 

44 1 assure you, if Lucien says nothing, he thinks 
none the less.” 

4 4 Indeed!” said Bonaparte, his eyes beginning to 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


315 


flash and his lip to curl. “And why should he be 
diplomatic with me?” 

It was evident that Lucien thought it time to come 
forward to support Joseph, but that he also wished 
to placate the rising wrath of the Consul. So he spoke 
very gently: 

“I really think as my brother Joseph does on this 
matter, and I undertake to say that the Chambers 
will never assent.’ ’ 

Bonaparte’s head shot up above the rim of the bath- 
tub, and he leveled a fiery glance at Lucien. 

“You undertake to say! A pretty piece of busi- 
ness ! ’ ’ with an air and tone of withering contempt. 

“Yes; and 7 undertake to say,” cried Joseph, in a 
tone of triumph, “that it will be so. And that is what 
I told the First Consul before.” 

“And what did I say?” said the Consul, his tone 
rising with his wrath, and with his head still above 
the rim of the bath-tub, looking by turns quickly from 
one brother to the other, as if not to lose any change 
in the countenance of either. 

“You declared,” said Joseph, his voice also rising, 
“you would get along without the assent of the 
Chambers; did you not?” 

“Exactly,” said Bonaparte, concentrated irony in 
his tone. “That is what I took the liberty to say to 
Monsieur Joseph, and what I repeat here to Citizen 
Lucien, begging him to give me his opinion about it, 
derived from his paternal tenderness for that mighty 
diplomatic conquest of his, the treaty of San Ilde- 
fonso.” 

Now I thought this a very unkind thrust at Lucien, 


316 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


for I had heard his part in the treaty had been most 
creditable and that the First Consul had been much 
pleased with it. I could see that Lucien found it hard 
to brook, but he struggled for mastery with himself, 
and spoke still gently: 

“My brother, my devotion is deep enough to sacri- 
fice everything for you, except my duty. If I believed, 
for example, this sale of Louisiana would be fatal to 
me alone, I would consent to it to prove to you my de- 
votion. But it is too unconstitutional.’ ’ 

Bonaparte broke into his sentence with a fit of rasp- 
ing, sarcastic laughter, sinking back into the bath- 
tub almost in a convulsion of demoniacal mirth. 

“Ha, ha, ha! You are drawing it fine. ‘For ex- 
ample’!” His words struggled out in the intervals of 
his spasms of laughter. “Ha, ha, ha! ‘For exam- 
ple’ !”— catching his breath. “‘Unconstitutional’! 
That ’s droll from you ; a good joke— ha, ha !” As his 
laughter ceased an expression of ironical and con- 
temptuous rage passed over his face. 

“How have I touched your constitution?” he cried. 
‘ ‘ Answer ! ’ ’ 

“I know well,” said Lucien, still trying to control 
himself, “you have not done so; but you know well 
that to alienate any possession of the republic without 
the consent of the Chambers is unconstitutional.” 

That last word seemed to drive the Consul beside 
himself. Once more his head shot above the top of the 
bath-tub, and with blazing eyes he shook his fist at 
Lucien. 

“Clear out!” he shouted. 


‘ ‘ ‘ Constitution ’ ! ‘ Un- 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


317 


constitutionaP ! ‘Republic’! Great words— fine 
phrases! Do you think you are still at the Club of 
St. Maximin? We are past that, you had better 
believe! Parbleu! You phrase it nobly. ‘Uncon- 
stitutional ’ ! It becomes you well, Sir Knight of the 
Constitution, to talk that way to me. You hadn’t 
the same respect for the Chambers on the eighteenth 
Brumaire. ’ ’ 

Lucien, roused at last, broke in, in a tone as high as 
Bonaparte’s: 

“You well know, my dear brother, that your entry 
into the Five Hundred had no warmer opponent than 
I. No ! I was not your accomplice, but the repairer of 
the evil which you had done to yourself !— and that 
at my own peril, and with some generosity on my 
part, because we did not then agree. Not to boast, 
I may add that no one in Europe, more than I, has dis- 
approved the sacrilege against the national represen- 
tation. ’ ’ 

Bonaparte’s eyes blazed like diamonds. 

“Go on— go on !” he thundered. “That ’s quite too 
fine a thing to cut short, Sir Orator of the Clubs! 
But at the same time take note of this : that I shall do 
just as I please; that I detest, without fearing, your 
friends the Jacobins !— not one of whom shall remain 
in France if, as I hope, things continue to remain in 
my hands; and that, in fine, I snap my fingers at 
you and your ‘national representation.’ ” 

‘ ‘ On my side, ’ ’ shouted Lucien, “ I do not snap my 
fingers at you, Citizen Consul, but I well know what 
I think about you.” 


318 


THE ROSE -OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“What do yon think about me, Citizen Lucien? 
Parbleu! I am curious to know. Out with it!” 

“I think, Citizen Consul, that, having sworn to the 
constitution of the eighteenth Brumaire, as President 
of the Council of the Five Hundred, and seeing you 
despise it thus, if I were not your brother I would be 
your enemy!” 

“My enemy!” screamed Bonaparte. “Try it once! 
That ’s rather strong ! 9 9 And, shaking his fist at Lu- 
cien, as he had done once before, “Thou my enemy!” 
he screamed again, and then sank back in the water 
up to his neck, as if exhausted. In a moment he spoke 
again in a somewhat quieter tone: 

“Cease this miserable caviling which you and 
Joseph are at work on night and day— ridiculous for 
him, and still less appropriate for you. It is not from 
you that I expect lessons in government. Enough! 
Forget all you have said about it ! I shall contrive to 
dispense with you. A precious, well-disposed pair of 
brothers you are ! Please call back the valet ; I must 
get out of the bath-tub at once.” 

The valet had come in ; J oseph and Lucien, thinking 
the matter was dropped, were turning toward the 
door; the valet was spreading open the sheet to wrap 
up his master, when the Consul suddenly returned to 
the charge, and thundered in a tone that made Lucien 
and Joseph start and turn back quickly, and the valet 
drop the sheet from his trembling hands : 

“Well, sirs, think what you please about the sale 
of Louisiana ! but you may both of you put on mourn- 
ing over this thing— you, Lucien, over the sale of your 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


319 


province; you, Joseph, because I propose to dispense 
with the consent of all persons whatsoever. Do you 
hear?” 

I fairly shivered in my hiding-place at such an out- 
break on such a topic in the presence of a servant. 
Lucien shrank farther toward the door, but Joseph, 
who had held his peace through the quarrel of the two 
brothers, stung by the scornful words and manner, and 
especially by the contemptuous ‘ ‘ Do you hear ? ’ ' which 
w T as like a cutting snapper to the Consul's lashing 
wrath, rushed back, exclaiming: 

4 ‘You will do well, my dear brother, not to lay your 
plan before the Chambers, for I swear to you I will 
put myself, if necessary, at the head of the opposi- 
tion which will certainly be made . 9 9 

There was no reply from Bonaparte but an out- 
burst of loud and sardonic laughter. 

Joseph flushed dark red, and, almost beside himself 
with rage, stooping over the figure that lay immersed 
in the bath, screamed out: 

“Laugh! laugh! laugh, then! All the same, I shall 
do what I say, and, though I do not like to mount the 
tribune, this time you 'll see me there ! ' ' 

At these words, Bonaparte rose in the bath-tub so as 
to show half his body out of the water, opaque and 
frothy with cologne, and pale as his brother was red, 
he cried sternly : 

“You will not need to play the orator, for I repeat 
to you that this debate will not take place, because 
the plan so unlucky as to be disapproved by you, con- 
ceived by me, negotiated by me, will be ratified and 


320 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

executed by me — by me alone; do you understand? 
— by me!” Then he sank back once more to his neck 
in the water. Joseph, whose self-control was all gone, 
his face aflame, roared : 

“Well, general, on my side, I tell you that you and 
I and all the family, if you do what you say you 
will, may get ready to join shortly those poor innocent 
devils whom you so legally, so humanely,— above all, 
with so much justice,— have had transported to Cay- 
enne ! ’ ’ 

This was a terrible home thrust, and I could see 
Lucien draw hastily still farther back toward the door, 
and the valet literally cowered. 

“You insolent fellow!” thundered Bonaparte. “I 
ought—” But I did not hear the rest of the sen- 
tence, for as he spoke he rose quickly from the water 
and plunged heavily back, so that the water dashed out 
in a flood on the floor. Lucien, who was back by the 
door, escaped a wetting; but Joseph received the 
splash full in his face, and his clothes were drenched. 
The valet ran to Joseph’s assistance, but had no more 
than begun to sponge him off than he fell to the floor 
in a fainting fit. The quarrel was calmed at once, 
and the Bonapartes good-heartedly ran to the res- 
cue. Joseph hurried to pick him up from the wet 
floor; Lucien rang the bell so hard that Rustan and 
another servant came running in, frightened; and 
the First Consul, his eyes and lips just visible above 
the rim of the bath-tub, called out sympathetically: 

“Carry off the poor fellow, and take good care of 
him.” 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


321 


As for me, the excitement was too much for me 
also. I did not faint, but my stool, which was none of 
the steadiest on its three legs, suddenly tipped from 
the excess of my emotion, and, though I caught myself 
from falling entirely, I yet made what sounded to my 
horrified ears a deafening racket. In reality I sup- 
pose it was only a slight scuffling noise, but it was 
enough to catch the quick ears of the First Consul and 
Rustan. 

“What was that?” I heard the First Consul say in a 
startled tone. 

“I think, sir, it was some noise in the closet,” I 
heard Rustan reply. “If Monsieur Joseph will assist 
in supporting your valet, I will investigate.” 

Now was my last hour come. But I was not going 
to die like a rat in a trap. I would rush out the door 
into the public corridor, and, if necessary, slay the 
guard and make one bold dash for safety. I drew 
my sword from its scabbard to have it in readiness in 
my hand for whatever might befall, pulled back the 
curtain, and came near running through the body 
my pretty Felice ! She was coming to keep her prom- 
ise to me and show me the way out. She did not 
seem to see my sword, but the moment she saw me she 
spoke in great excitement: 

“Make haste, Monsieur; there is not a moment to 
lose. You can escape through the main corridor. 
But you must be quick, for the Consul may finish his 
bath at any minute, and his brothers retire here to 
await him while he dresses.” 

We were hurrying toward the door as she spoke, 
21 


322 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


but I, feeling as if the Mameluke were close behind me, 
seized her hand and dragged her roughly into the 
corridor as I whispered: 

4 'Yes, we must be quick, for Rustan is after us!” 

With a half-suppressed scream she let go my hand, 
turned to Gaston, who was standing at the door mo- 
tionless as a statue and, to all appearance, deaf and 
blind as one also, uttered the one word, "Rustan!” 
and fled swiftly down the dark side corridor, leaving 
me utterly bewildered. The western sun was flood- 
ing the cabinet of the First Consul when I went into 
my hiding-place, but the sun had set and twilight had 
fallen and the candles had been long lit when I stepped 
out into the corridor. The wax tapers set in sconces 
along the corridor lighted it but poorly, and I knew 
not which way to go. 

' ‘ Run, Monsieur ! ’ 7 cried Gaston, in a terrified 
whisper, "straight down the corridor till you come to 
the grand staircase. And run as if the devil was 
after you, for he is ! ” 

That was all I needed, — a word of direction, — and 
I was off. But scarcely had I gone a few feet when 
I heard a great noise and shouting behind me, and 
Gaston crying, "Stop thief!” I thought at first he 
was turning traitor, now that he had my gold piece 
with no chance of gaining another from me. But 
as I ran the faster, and the noise behind me did not 
seem to gain on me, as I feared it might, I concluded 
he was making a great outcry to cover his own part in 
my escape, and perhaps was hindering the pursuit 
more than helping it. 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


323 


Yet when I came to the turn of the grand staircase 
I thought for a moment I had also come to the end of 
my days; for just as I felt sure I was distancing those 
behind me, there came running swiftly toward me 
from the other end of the dim corridor an officer with 
sword drawn, and I saw he would meet me exactly at 
the head of the grand staircase. The light from a tall 
taper fell on his face as he neared the staircase. It 
was the Chevalier Le Moyne! 

I had but a moment to think. Should I stop to en- 
gage with him, I had no doubt I could unsword him 
as easily as he had unsworded me in the dance by 
Chouteau’s Pond; but the delay would bring a score 
to his help, and I would be quickly overpowered, if 
not done to death at once. Neither did I like to turn 
my back on that drawn sword as I fled down the steps, 
feeling sure it would spit me through the shoulders, 
much as Narcisse spitted the wild fowl for roasting 
at Emigre’s Retreat. But above all I did not wish the 
chevalier to see my face ; for, even should I make good 
my escape, Paris would be no safe place for me should 
he recognize in the flying “ thief” his hated St. Louis 
rival. 

I pulled my hat low over my eyes, lifted my left 
arm before my face as if to shield it from his sword, 
rushed straight toward him, met him, as I thought I 
should, at the top of the staircase, and, with a quick 
twist of my foot (a school-boy’s trick), sent him 
sprawling down the stairs. In three great bounds I 
had cleared the staircase and his prostrate body, and 
like a whirlwind I threw myself upon the sentry at its 


324 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


foot, who— half dazed by this sudden descent of the 
chevalier and myself, one rolling and bumping from 
step to step, the other leaping through the air like 
some great winged creature— was nevertheless in the 
act of raising his gun to fire at me. As I hurled my 
great weight full upon him, the gun flew from his 
hands, and his little dancing-master figure went 
pirouetting across the terrace into the darkness be- 
yond, in a vain struggle to recover his balance. I 
sprang down the terrace after him, and disappeared in 
the friendly darkness. 

It was time. Starting from the gloom in every di- 
rection, armed figures seemed to spring from the 
ground, while down the great staircase behind me clat- 
tered, shrieking and shouting in every key, a throng 
of officers and soldiers, led by a dark figure gliding 
swiftly and silently far in advance, and holding in his 
upraised hand something that glittered as it caught 
the rays from wax tapers. In the very act of spring- 
ing down the first terrace, I saw the glittering dagger 
leave Rustan’s hand, hurled straight at my head, and 
heard it fall far below me on the stone parapet of the 
last terrace. 

It was but the work of a moment to run swiftly to 
the pines and find Fatima, and lead her out of the 
thicket. I had not found my seat upon her back when 
she bounded away into the dark, straight down the 
broad green allee that led toward the Bois de Boulogne 
and Paris. Then was there hurrying to horse, and 
the pounding of many hoofs behind me on the soft 
turf, and the wild clamor of confused orders shouted 



“ Rushed straight toward him n 













A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


325 


back and forth, and a fusillade of bullets firing into 
the dark, if by chance one might find its mark. 

But I no longer felt any fear. Fatima was stretch- 
ing away beneath me with the swift and easy motion 
of a bird, and I did not believe there was a horse in all 
France could overtake her. The night was my friend, 
too, and a dark night it was ; for the clouds had gath- 
ered and shut out even the faint light of stars, and 
I could not so much as see my hand before my face. 
But I could trust Fatima to find her way, and I felt 
nothing but a wild exhilaration as we went swinging 
along in great strides through the cool, damp night 
breeze, and I could tell, from the clamor of voices and 
pounding of hoofs growing more distant, that we were 
gaining on our pursuers. 

Out from the soft turf of the park we clattered on 
to the stony streets of the little village. Here there 
were lights, and people passing to and fro, who 
stopped and stared at the wild flight of horse and 
rider. But none molested until the hallooes and the 
clatter of hoofs of those following reached their ears. 
Then men rushed out from low taverns, from hut and 
hovel and respectable houses, brandishing arms and 
shouting “Stop thief !” and adding much to the noise 
and excitement, but availing nothing to stop the fu- 
gitive. Only one young fellow, an officer by his dress, 
snatched a gun from a bystander, and fired with so 
true an aim that had I not ducked my head I would 
have had no head to duck. 

But in a few moments we had left the village behind 
us and were once more on the unlighted country roads 


326 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

Paster and faster we flew, by hedge and stone wall and 
orchard, whence the night breeze wafted the scent of 
blossoming fruit-trees, with ever the sound of hallooes 
and hoofs growing fainter in the distance. 

Yet not until I had long ceased to catch even the 
slightest sound of pursuit, and we were well on our 
way through the gloomy depths of the Bois, night 
haunt of robbers, suicides, and assassins, did I draw 
rein and give Fatima a chance to breathe. As we am- 
bled along, my pulses growing quieter as Fatima s 
breath no longer came in deep-drawn sobs, but regu- 
larly in warm puffs from her wide nostrils, I fell to 
thinking over the events of the afternoon. 

Now that it was all safely over, and no ill had be- 
fallen me, and I had brought no disgrace upon my 
uncle, I was elated beyond measure that my adventure 
had exceeded my wildest hopes of its success. I had 
seen the great Bonaparte, and would henceforth know 
him as no man outside the circle of his intimate 
friends could possibly know him. He would no longer 
be, in my eyes, the impossible hero of romance, fault- 
less and beyond criticism, but a man with more than 
the ordinary man’s meed of shortcomings as to tem- 
per, yet with also a thousand times more than any 
ordinary man’s power to control men and mold cir- 
cumstance. Dictatorial, harsh, intolerant of all opin- 
ions that did not coincide with his own, brooking no 
interference with his methods or suggestions as to his 
duty, he could yet be playful and affectionate with the 
brother he loved, sympathetic with a servant whom his 
own harsh temper had frightened into fainting, and 


A TEMPEST IN A BATH-TUB 


327 


touched with a soft feeling of regret for the colony he 
ruthlessly alienated from the fatherland. 

My mind pictured him vividly in every aspect in 
which I had seen him, but strongest and most persis- 
tent of all was the vision of the figure in the deep- 
armed chair, bowed in mournful thought, or with arm 
outstretched to my uncle, and voice trembling with 
suppressed emotion, saying : 

“Let the Louisianians know that we separate our- 
selves from them with regret. Let them retain for us 
sentiments of affection. And may our common ori- 
gin, descent, language, and customs perpetuate the 
friendship \ ” 


CHAPTER XXII 


MR. MONROE ARRIVES! 

“No sun upon an Easter day 
Is half so fine a sight. ” 

I T was ten o’clock when I reached Monsieur Mar- 
bois’s house and found my aunt anxiously await- 
ing me. I had to explain the lateness of my return 
and the bespattered condition of my garments by tell- 
ing her I had lost my way in the Boulogne woods 
(which was true, for in those winding roads Fatima 
did for a time go astray), and such was her horror at 
the thought of the perils to which I had been exposed 
in that forest of evil repute that she questioned me not 
at all about my visit to St. Cloud, for which I was de- 
voutly thankful. She had expected that my uncle 
would be detained all night, so that I had no explana- 
tions to make in his behalf. 

The dinner-hour was long past, but she insisted on 
having a hot supper prepared for me, and though my 
conscience assured me I deserved to go to bed hungry, 
the little fillet of beef with mushrooms, flanked by 
an omelet au gratin, which Jacques, my aunt’s ac- 
complished chef, sent up to my room piping hot, with 
a glass of fine old Burgundy, tasted a little better to 
328 


MR. MONROE ARRIVES! 


329 


me than I ever remembered anything to have tasted 
before. Le petit souper was served in my room, be- 
cause my aunt had insisted that my wet clothes should 
be removed (it had begun to rain long before we 
reached the streets of Paris) and I should get into a 
hot bath at once to prevent, if possible, the cold she 
was sure I had contracted on my wet and perilous ride. 

Safe in my own comfortable room, warm and re- 
freshed from my bath, with a delicious supper smoking 
before me, the memory of my exciting adventures and 
the discomforts of the latter part of the ride, lost in 
the dismal woods and chilled to the bone by the cold 
rain, already began to grow dim and hazy. 

The April rain driving against my windows added 
to my sense of comfort and security. It had been a 
good friend to me in at least two respects: it had 
washed out every trace of Fatima ’s hoof-prints, so 
that not even Monsieur Fouche’s lynx-eyed police 
could track me when the morning light should start 
them on the trail; and it had ruined my new puce- 
colored costume. Remembering how I had rejoiced in 
the wearing of it that very morning, its destruction 
might not seem to be a cause for thankfulness. But I 
would never dare to wear it again, lest some one who 
had seen me at St. Cloud (most of all, the chevalier) 
should recognize it; and yet I might have found it 
difficult to frame excuses for not wearing it that would 
satisfy my aunt’s minute and anxious care for me, 
which extended to seeing that I wore the proper suit 
for every occasion. 

But I did not feel quite so secure the next morning, 


330 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


when I saw posted all over the city flaming accounts of 
an attack upon the First Consul's life when he was in 
his bath, frustrated by the vigilance of his faithful 
Mameluke. There followed descriptions of the assas- 
sin as given by various witnesses who had had deadly 
hand-to-hand encounters with him, no two descriptions 
agreeing in any particulars, except that he was of 
great stature and rode a mysterious steed that bore 
him away on the wings of the wind. 

There was great excitement throughout all Paris, 
and there were not wanting those who hinted at 
supernatural agencies. Some of those who had stood 
gaping at our swift flight through St. Cloud village 
were ready to swear that the horse the assassin rode 
had wings from his shoulders and his feet, and one 
poor lout added a tail and a pair of horns for the 
rider ! 

I might have been amused at all this if it had not 
been for the Chevalier Le Moyne. It was almost in- 
evitable that I should meet him some day in the city, 
and when he should come to know of my presence in 
Paris he would at once connect the assassin of great 
size and his wonderful horse with the horse and rider 
that had snatched Mademoiselle Pelagie from his grasp 
at Rock Spring. And I was quite sure, also, that no 
considerations of gratitude for his life spared when 
he was in my power would deter him from handing 
me over to the merciless police with the greatest de- 
light, now that I was in his power. 

So it was not with a perfect sense of security that 
I went about Paris for the next day or two, and I 


MR. MONROE ARRIVES! 


331 


left Fatima to pine in her stable rather than to run 
the risk of suggesting a resemblance to some St. Cloud 
villager while yet the apparition of horse and rider 
was fresh in his mind. 

I did not see my uncle until late on Tuesday after- 
noon. He had gone direct to the Treasury office on 
Monday morning, and had been summoned to St. 
Cloud again Monday afternoon to spend the night. 
I had fully made up my mind to make a clean breast 
of it to him when I should see him, though I dreaded 
much the just reprimands I knew I should receive. It 
was with a very trembling heart, but striving to keep 
as courageous a front as possible, that I obeyed a 
summons to his private library late Tuesday after- 
noon. My uncle was sternness itself. 

“Sit down, sir,” he said as I entered, scarcely re- 
turning my greeting. 

“If you will permit me, I would prefer to stand 
until I have made an explanation and my most heart- 
felt apologies,” I replied, determined to speak quickly 
and have it over before my courage should desert me. 

“I desire no apologies,” returned my. uncle, a lit- 
tle less sternly, I thought, “and I particularly desire 
that you make me no explanations. If you had any 
connection with the mysterious assassin and his horse, 
I prefer to be able to say that I know nothing at all 
about it. I may have my suspicions that only a dare- 
devil young American could accomplish such feats of 
prowess as were ascribed to this ‘assassin/— over- 
power single-handed all the guards of the palace, and 
make good his escape on a steed of supernatural swift- 


332 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

nesS; _but I prefer that they should remain suspi- 
cions; do you understand?” 

I howed silently, too mortified to make any reply. 

“I may have my theories, also,” continued my un- 
cle, “as to this young daredevil’s presence in the First 
Consul ’s closet, and they would certainly not he those 
entertained by the police. Yet it would be a difficult 
matter to convince any one, least of all the First Con- 
sul and Fouche, that he could be there for any other 
purpose than assassination; and should his identity 
be discovered, I fear no influence could be brought to 
bear strong enough to save his life. Permit me to add, 
also, that an insatiable curiosity to be present at coun- 
cils of state, such as I have no doubt led this young 
man to contrive an entrance into the Consul’s private 
apartments, seems to me only one degree less culpable 
than the dastardly designs of an assassin.” 

It is impossible to describe the scathing tone with 
which my uncle uttered this last sentence. Nor, had 
I been receiving condemnation from a just judge for 
the most dastardly crimes, could I have felt keener hu- 
miliation. I dared not lift my eyes, and every pulse in 
my body sent the blood in waves to my already scar- 
let countenance. I broke out into a great sweat all 
over my body as I realized that I had forever forfeited 
the respect and confidence of my uncle, whom I greatly 
honored and admired. I felt that I must make one des- 
perate effort to regain a little of what I had lost. Not 
until that moment did I dream that I would be 
suspected of deliberately hiding in that closet for the 
purpose of eavesdropping, and not to be allowed to 


MR. MONROE ARRIVES! 


333 


explain to my uncle that my presence there was by 
accident was almost more than I could bear. 

“Sir,” I began, still not lifting my eyes, “you will 
not permit me to tell you anything when I had desired 
to tell you all, but I beg that you will allow me to say 
that it was not a spirit of mean curiosity that moved 
that young man, but a spirit of foolish and reckless 
adventure, of which he bitterly repents— most of all, 
because he has forever forfeited the respect and esteem 
of him whose good opinion he most prizes. He will re- 
turn at once to America, where he will be in no danger 
of disgracing those whom he honors so highly. That 
his visit to Paris, so kindly planned by you, looked for- 
ward to with such delight, and, until the present mo- 
ment, enjoyed so keenly, should end in such failure, 
is a greater bitterness than you can comprehend ; but 
he feels that he has richly deserved it for his fool- 
ish recklessness. He only prays that in condemning 
his actions you will not judge too harshly of his 
motives, and that if it is possible to retain affection 
where esteem is forfeited, he may still be permitted to 
retain a little of yours. ’ 9 

I stood with my head bowed for what seemed to me 
a very long time before my uncle spoke. Then he said 
in the kindest of tones : 

“Sit down, my boy; ’t is not quite so bad as that.” 

I looked up quickly. My uncle was actually smiling, 
and a great load rolled off my heart. For whereas a 
moment before I had thought I could never look any 
man in the face again, least of all my uncle, it now 
seemed to me that there was almost as much of kindly 


334 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


affection in his glance as I had ever found there. Yet 
I would not sit down, as my uncle so kindly insisted, 
feeling that I deserved still to retain the attitude of 
culprit; seeing which, my uncle softened still more. 

“ Perhaps I have been too hard on you,” he said; 
“it was a foolish trick, without doubt, and you de- 
serve some punishment for your thoughtlessness and 
recklessness. From what I know of you, I can charge 
you with no mean motive, and I am not sure but that 
at your age an adventure of such kind would have 
tempted me greatly. I do not mind saying, also, that 
I am rather proud of the way you got yourself out 
of your scrape, and I am glad there were no more 
serious results than a sprained ankle for the Chevalier 
Le Moyne and a temporary aberration of mind for the 
sentry. I am told you sent him spinning in such 
fashion that his brains flew out of the top of his head, 
and it was some hours before he got them back again. 
I hear, too, that he insists it could have been no less 
a personage than his Satanic Majesty himself who 
with a touch of the hand sent his gun flying when 
he was in the very act of firing, and then gave him 
a twirl that sent him spinning down the terraces in 
the dark.” 

I did not want to laugh, but I could not quite sup- 
press a sheepish grin at this picture of the dazed sen- 
try, seeing which my uncle threw back his head and 
laughed in a way I am sure he learned in America, for 
I have never heard the like from these ever-smiling 
Parisians. I would have liked to laugh with him, so 
jolly did it sound, and my heart growing lighter every 


MR. MONROE ARRIVES! 


335 


moment; but I did not quite dare. In a minute my 
uncle stopped as suddenly as he had begun, and was 
all seriousness again. 

“Well, well, my boy, it ’s all over,” he said, “and 
I am thankful there was no bloodshed, and not very 
sorry that the chevalier must go limping for a while. 
I like not that fellow, and I don’t understand why 
he is hanging around the First Consul so much of late. 
As to your going back to America, it would be the 
worst possible thing to do. You might as well make 
a confession at once. No ; you must go about exactly 
as you have always done, no more, no less— certainly 
no less. And you must ride Fatima, but always at a 
moderate pace, and be sure you make no exhibitions of 
her training.’ ’ 

I hardly knew how to thank my uncle, and I told 
him so. I was indeed glad not to be sent back to 
America, and I had no doubt that he was right about 
the wisdom of showing myself in public places with 
Fatima. I was glad, too, to hear him say that he 
did not like the Chevalier Le Moyne. I thought I 
could have enlightened him as to the chevalier’s 
reasons for hanging around the First Consul, but my 
uncle did not know that I had ever seen Chevalier Le 
Moyne before, and I could not explain to him without 
telling him also about the Comtesse de Baloit; and— I 
knew not why, but I shrank greatly from mentioning 
her name to my uncle. So I held my peace about the 
chevalier, and instead made many promises as to 
my future conduct, and expressed many regrets ior 
the past. 


336 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I was leaving the room, feeling myself partly at 
least restored to my self-respect, when my uncle called 
me back. 

“I Ve a piece of news that may interest you,” he 
said. “The President’s envoy, Mr. Monroe, has ar- 
rived, and I am going to call on him at Mr. Living- 
ston’s this evening. Would you like to go with me?” 

I thanked him much, and assured him that I was 
greatly honored and pleased at his invitation (which 
did, indeed, seem to me like a sign that his confidence 
in me had returned), and then I hastily left the room 
with my head in a whirl. Mr. Monroe had arrived! 
Then so also had mademoiselle. I knew of no way to 
quiet the tumult of my heart and brain but to go for a 
ride on Fatima, though in my state of excitement it 
was hard work keeping her down to the moderate pace 
my uncle had recommended. 

I sought the Champs-Elysees, for it was the fashion- 
able hour for driving, and I hoped that she might 
be taking the air there with all the rest of the world, 
though I hardly thought it probable so soon after her 
arrival. I rode slowly up and down the avenue, bowing 
to many acquaintances, and looking eagerly at every 
beautiful woman, whether I knew her or not, for fear 
that, seeing her in a strange city with strange sur- 
roundings, I might pass her and not know her. 

I was about to give up the quest and go home, when 
I saw coming toward me a carriage that had just 
turned into the avenue from a street leading to the 
Faubourg St. Germain. It was more magnificent 
than any I had seen, with, outriders in gorgeous liv- 


MR. MONROE ARRIVES! 


337 


eries, but I thought that hardly accounted for the 
way people were staring, stopping to look back when 
the carriage had passed, and the young men bowing to 
the ground. My heart began to beat tumultuously, 
as if it knew what my eyes were soon to look upon; 
yet I am not sure that I really believed it until it 
burst upon me, a vision of dazzling loveliness. Had I 
forgotten how beautiful she was? or was it that the 
fine Parisian hat and dress had added the transcendent 
touch? Unconsciously I drew Fatima to one side, 
so dazzled was I by her radiance ; and so she did not 
see me, though she was looking eagerly from side to 
side, trying to take in at once all this wonderful Paris 
of which she had heard so much. She seemed to me 
like a happy child, eyes and lips smiling with delight, 
and I was happy just to be looking at her, though 
I liked not the face of the proud and haughty lady 
who sat beside her, and who, I feared, would never 
let her speak to her old St. Louis friend. 

The carriage passed, and I, too, looked back, as did 
all the rest of the world. Alas! in one moment was 
my joy turned to bitterness; for, sitting with his 
back to the horses and facing Pelagie, a proud smile 
as of ownership on his evil but handsome face, sat 
the Chevalier Le Moyne! 


22 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE CONSULTS SENTENCE 

« >T is an old maxim in the schools, 

That flattery ’s the food of fools ; 

Yet now and then yonr man of wit 
Will condescend to take a bit.” 

I WONDER what her cousin will say about it ? He 
is her next of kin, and I suppose will have some 
authority.” 

“You mean the young Due d’Enghien? He is in 
Baden, you know, and not in a position to say any- 
thing. He is still emigre, and likely to remain so ; for 
the First Consul distrusts all Bourbon princes.” 

“Yes ; but he might use his authority with his royal 
cousin, even at a distance. I had always thought he 
and the Comte d’ Artois had other plans for the com- 
tesse— that she was to strengthen their house by an al- 
liance with one of the royal houses of Europe.” 

“Without doubt that was their plan, but the other 
side of the house got ahead of them. It is to prevent 
just such an alliance, I believe, that the wily old 
duchesse is planning this marriage with the chevalier. 
He is too far down in the royal ranks to be a danger- 
ous parti.” 

“Have her estates been restored, do you know?” 

338 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


339 


“I am not sure, but I think not. I have heard that 
Bonaparte is making this marriage a condition. He, 
too, wants to prevent anything that will strengthen 
the power of the Bourbons.’ ’ 

“Oh, then the marriage is assured, and the duchesse 
has accomplished her purpose. I am sorry. I wish 
the comtesse had remained a little longer in Amer- 
ica.” 

“I am not quite so sure about it. It seems the com- 
tesse herself is making difficulties. Perhaps, now that 
she has discovered her true rank, she does not consider 
the chevalier sufficiently noble.” 

1 ‘ It will make no difference what she thinks or feels, 
poor child; with the duchesse and the First Consul 
both against her, she is as helpless as a bird in the 
snares of the fowler.” 

I was one of the group where this conversation took 
place, and so, though I had no part in it, I could not 
be considered an eavesdropper (for I had sworn that, 
rather than listen again to what was not intended for 
my hearing, I would go about with my ears stuffed 
with wax and be deaf to the whole world). No name 
had been mentioned, yet I knew well it was of the 
Comtesse de Baloit they were speaking, and every 
word pierced my soul like a knife. 

A stir at the upper end of the grand salon put a 
stop to the conversation. Every voice was hushed, and 
all eyes were turned to where Madame Bonaparte and 
the First Consul were making a grand entry. They 
were followed by a throng of ladies and gentlemen in 
attendance, and the scene could not have been more 


340 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


magnificent had they been king and queen holding 
royal court, with lords and ladies in waiting. 

I had eyes at first for no one but Madame Bona- 
parte (since coming to live at the Tuileries she was no 
longer called Citizeness Bonaparte), whom I had not 
yet seen, this being my first levee, and of whom I had 
heard almost as much as of the First Consul. I had 
heard that she was not faultlessly beautiful, but of 
great charm, and I could see at once that this was 
true. I do not know why she was not perfectly beau- 
tiful — V er ^ a P s her features were a little heavy, her 
nose a little long, her cheek-bones a little high, which 
just prevented her face from being faultless ; but her 
eyes were large and lustrous and beaming with kind- 
ness, and her hair was soft and dark and abundant 
and gathered under a Grecian filet in rich waves and 
curls, and her skin was of that creamy whiteness so 
often seen in creoles, and which sets off so well dark 
hair and eyes. I have never seen more beautiful neck 
and shoulders and arms ; they looked to me more like 
some of those beautiful figures in marble in the Louvre 
Museum, that Bonaparte brought back with him from 
Italy, than like real flesh and blood. 

She was dressed all in white, and my aunt whis- 
pered to me that the First Consul liked her best in 
white, and that it was said when Madame Bonaparte 
(who was herself fond of more gorgeous costumes) 
appeared in white, it was a sign either that she was 
jealous of her husband and was trying to win back 
his straying affections, or that she wanted some special 
favor granted. Very likely this was only idle court 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


341 


gossip, but it might easily be true, for I could hardly 
think her so nearly beautiful in any other dress as in 
that softly falling white, with high girdle of gold, 
richly jeweled, and her dark waves of hair caught in 
a golden net under the Grecian filet. 

The First Consul was very magnificent also ; I think 
he likes dress as well as his wife. When I had looked 
well at these two, I had leisure to look at their retinue ; 
and I looked first at the gentlemen, many of whom 
were wearing the brilliant uniforms of army officers. 
To my chagrin, my eyes fell almost instantly upon the 
Chevalier Le Moyne, wearing the very gorgeous uni- 
form of aide to General Bonaparte. As I looked at 
him his eye caught mine, and I saw him start, turn 
pale, and then color violently. In a moment he forced 
a quick smile to his lips (to his teeth, I had almost 
said, for there was always something wolfish to me in 
his smile), and then he bowed. I returned his bow 
very coldly, and his presence there suggesting to me 
that I might possibly find Pelagie among the court 
ladies (for so ’tis the fashion to call them in jest), I 
turned to look for her. Yes, she was there, and, like 
Madame Bonaparte, all in white. Only Pelagie ’s white 
was filmy and lacy, and fuller and more flowing than 
madame’s, with jewels shining in its folds and in her 
waving hair. And whereas Madame Bonaparte made 
me think of a Greek goddess, Pelagie reminded me of 
one of Mr. Shakspere’s fairies, sparkling, graceful, 
exquisite. 

She did not seem to see me, and I could gaze at her 
no longer, for the First Consul was already moving 


342 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


about from group to group of the assembled guests, 
saying a few words to each, and he was just approach- 
ing our party. He greeted my aunt and uncle and 
those standing with us, whom he knew, very affably ; 
then he turned his quick glance on me, and my uncle 
presented me. 

4 ‘ Ah, ’ 9 he said, ‘ ‘ I was not mistaken. I thought you 
were from America when I saw you in church on 
Easter morning” ; and, turning to my uncle, he added : 

“We do not grow such great fair men in France, 
Citizen Minister.” 

“No,” said my uncle, quickly; “we have small dark 
great men in France, Citizen First Consul.” 

Bonaparte laughed, pleased both with the play on 
words and my uncle’s compliment, and turned quickly 
to the next group before I had time to stammer out 
how flattered I felt at his remembering me. 

The next group happened to be the English ambas- 
sador, Lord Whitworth, and his friends. The Consul 
had been very affable with us, and I had discovered 
that his smile was of rare sweetness and gave great 
beauty to his face. But as he turned to Lord Whit- 
worth the smile vanished and his brows were drawn 
together in a dark frown. Without the slightest word 
of greeting, he spoke to him abruptly and harshly: 

“I find your nation wants war again.” 

Lord Whitworth bowed low, and a dull red slowly 
spread over his face as he answered : 

“No, sir; we are very desirous of peace.” 

“You have just finished a war of fifteen years,” 
said Bonaparte again, in the most offensive of tones, 
almost a sneer. 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


343 


The ambassador bit his lip in his effort at self-con- 
trol, but he answered with great suavity : 

“It is true, sir; and that was fifteen years too 
long.” 

“But you want another war of fifteen years,” in- 
sisted Bonaparte, his tones every moment harsher and 
louder, so that every one in that part of the salon 
could not help but hear. All conversation ceased, and 
every one listened with strained and painful attention. 
Lord Whitworth quietly reiterated : 

1 c Pardon me, sir ; we are very desirous of peace. ’ 9 

Then, in a tone that rang out like the harsh clang of 
crossing swords, Bonaparte cried : 

“I must either have Malta or war !” 

A shock ran through the whole assembly. No man 
dared look at his neighbor. This was nothing less 
than a declaration of war, and in the most insulting 
manner. Whether the proud representative of the 
haughtiest nation on the globe would receive such a 
rude insult to himself and his country calmly was very 
doubtful, and we all awaited Lord Whitworth’s reply 
in trembling silence. With compressed lips and eyes 
that flashed in spite of himself, but with a calmness in 
marked contrast to Bonaparte’s petulance, he replied: 

“I am not prepared, sir, to speak on that subject; 
and I can only assure you, Citizen First Consul, that 
we wish for peace.” 

Bonaparte’s frown grew darker, but he said no 
more ; and with a curt nod, and almost a sneer on his 
lips, he withdrew at once into a small cabinet opening 
into the salon, leaving the rest of his guests without 
addressing a word to them, which I was told afterward 


344 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


was very unusual with him, and showed that his irri- 
tation must be very great. 

An embarrassed silence followed the First Consul’s 
exit. I had been looking forward to this levee for 
weeks, but it promised to be a very uncomfortable oc- 
casion for me as well as for others. I had a great de- 
sire to speak to the British ambassador and assure him 
of my sympathy, for none of the Frenchmen so much 
as dared to look at him, now that he was in disgrace, 
lest it be reported to the Consul, and they themselves 
fall under suspicion. But I feared it would be pre- 
sumption in one so young and unknown, and I dreaded 
meeting the haughty British stare with which an Eng- 
lishman petrifies one he considers unduly forward. 
Much to my relief, and indeed to the relief of the 
whole company, my uncle turned to him and began at 
once to talk in a most animated manner of the doings 
in the American Congress. That the relief was gen- 
eral was evident, for conversation was at once re- 
sumed, and with a gaiety that was somewhat feverish, 
I thought. 

It was our turn now to pay our respects to Ma- 
dame Bonaparte. I had been eager to meet her until 
I discovered the presence of Pelagie; but now it had 
suddenly become a trying ordeal to walk forward and 
salute madame, and perhaps stand talking to her a 
few moments, conscious that Pelagie ’s eyes, if they 
cared to, might be watching every movement. Should 
I be awkward (as I feared I would under such a scru- 
tiny), I was sure there would be the old mocking light 
in them I had so often seen, and dreaded to see, in St. 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


345 


Louis. I resolved not to glance at her once while I 
was going through my ordeal, lest she should prove my 
undoing; and I tried to think only of the charming 
woman who smiled bewitchingly when I made gallant 
speeches, and who tapped me with her fan in much the 
same playful fashion as Mistress Madison had tapped 
me with her jeweled snuff-box. Indeed, she reminded 
me much of the lovely Washington lady. Both had 
the same kind way of putting an awkward lad at his 
ease, and seeming to like him and be pleased with his 
speeches, especially if they savored a little of audacity. 
But Madame Bonaparte had not the dash and sparkle 
of Mistress Madison ; instead, she had a lazy Southern 
fashion of speech and a wonderfully winning gentle- 
ness that I am not sure was not more charming than 
the gay brilliancy of the other. 

She kept me talking to her longer than I had ex- 
pected (or hoped for), and I began to see significant 
glances exchanged, while my color was steadily rising ; 
and I was sure mademoiselle (if she looked at me at 
all), noting my shining curls, as yellow as the gold 
lace on my white satin court-dress, and my cheeks 
flaming like any girl ’s, was saying to herself with in- 
finite scorn, ‘ ‘ Pretty boy ! ’ 9 

I think Madame Bonaparte saw the significant 
glances also, for she said presently: 

“You must meet the Comtesse de Baloit, She has 
just returned from your America, and you will have 
much in common to talk about.” 

And so I found myself bowing low over Pelagie’s 
hand, and a moment later looking straight down into 


346 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


her lovely dark eyes, which looked straight up at mine 
with no hint of scorn in their shadowy depths, but 
only a great wonder, and a little of something else that 
set my pulses to beating like trip-hammers. 

“I cannot understand, Monsieur, ” she said. “I 
shall have to ask you, as you asked me in Washington 
—how did you get here?” 

“It was a lodestar drew me,” I murmured. 

But the warm light in her eyes changed quickly to 
proud disdain. 

“I like not idle gallantries between old friends. 
Keep those for Madame Bonaparte. I saw they 
pleased her greatly, and that you were much flattered 
by their reception.” 

Could the Comtesse de Baloit be jealous? or was 
it the haughty Faubourg St. Germain scorning the 
parvenue of the Tuileries ? I hoped it was the 
first, but in either case it behooved me to make quick 
amende. 

“Forgive me, Comtesse,” I said, as coldly as she 
had spoken, but in English, and so low that I hoped 
no listener could understand even if he knew the 
tongue. “It was true, but you could not know how 
true, and I have no right to tell you. I know well 
how great a distance lies between the proud Lady of 
France and a simple American gentleman. Permit 
me to inform you, Comtesse, that I have been in Paris 
for more than a month with my uncle, Monsieur 
Barbe Marbois. And permit me to add, as a simple 
fact in which you may be interested or not, that this 
is the moment for which I have lived through that 




THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


347 


month— the moment when I should meet again the 
Comtesse de Baloit.” 

It had ever been the way with the little Pelagie in 
America to meet her hauteur with hauteur, but I was 
not sure it would work here, and I trembled inwardly 
while I spoke so calmly. But it did. Her lids 
dropped for a moment, and a soft color stole up to 
her temples. When she lifted her eyes again, there 
was a sweet, shy light in them. 

1 ‘ Monsieur, ’ ’ she said softly, in her pretty English, 
“why do you call me Comtesse? Have you forgot- 
ten ? ’ ’ 

“Is it still to be Mademoiselle ?” I cried eagerly, 
and had hard work not to pick her up in my arms and 
run away with her, so adorable was she in her sweet 
friendliness. 

“Mademoiselle always, unless it is —’ 7 But then 
she broke off suddenly and turned a rosy red, and 
added quickly, with something of her old sauciness: 
“Never Comtesse, unless I am very, very naughty.” 

My heart told me what she had meant to say, and 
I whispered proudly: 

“Unless it is some day— Pelagie” ; and I know my 
eyes told her all the rest I did not dare to say, for she 
looked away from me quickly, and I, glancing up, met 
a black scowl on the face of the chevalier, who, I knew, 
must have been watching this little by-play, though 
he could not have heard a word, such was the buzz and 
clatter of conversation about us. His face cleared in- 
stantly, and he stepped quickly forward with a forced 
smile and an extended hand. 


348 


THE ROSE OP OLD ST. LOUTS 

“Permit me to greet an old friend,” he said gaily. 
“When did you arrive in Paris?” 

It would have been well for me if I could have 
swallowed my pride sufficiently to take his proffered 
hand ; but it seemed to me the hand of a scoundrel and 
a dastard, and I could not bring myself to touch it. I 
pretended not to see it, and I hoped the chevalier and 
those who were looking on might be deceived into 
thinking I did not, as I answered politely enough : 
“The Chevalier Le Moyne is very kind to welcome 

me so cordially to Paris.” 

And then, with a sudden recollection of our last en- 
counter, and hoping to throw him off the track, I 

added: . .... 

“I have been in Paris but a short time; this is my 

first visit to the Tuileries. 

But I had not deceived him. The black scowl re- 
turned quickly at my rejection of his proffered hand, 
and stretching himself to his full height, so as to be as 
near my ear as possible, he said between his teeth: 

“It may be your first visit to the Tuileries, Mon- 
sieur ; but, if I mistake not, you have been at St. Cloud 
before If I had known you were in Paris I would 
have been at no loss to account for the mysterious 
horse and his rider. I suppose you have brought that 

accursed mare with you?” 

I may have turned pale, for I saw black rum yawn 
before me, but I answered steadily : 

“I do not understand you, Monsieur. I beg you 

will explain.” . ,, 

* < Diable ! You understand well enough, Monsieur, 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


349 


he sneered, and turned and walked away with an ex- 
aggerated limp— it had been scarcely perceptible when 
he came to greet me. 

I had little time to worry over this new peril that 
threatened, for my uncle came up to present me to 
more of the “ court ladies,” and I did my best to talk 
and be merry, while in the background of my thoughts 
I was trying to plan some way of escape from the 
meshes of the net I saw closing around me. Paris was 
no longer any place for me. I must tell my uncle at 
the first opportunity, and ask his help in getting away 
as quietly as possible to America ; and at that thought, 
and that I was cutting myself off from ever seeing 
again the Comtesse de Baloit, I groaned inwardly, and 
could have cursed the reckless folly that had brought 
me to such a pass. 

In the midst of my troubled thoughts I saw an offi- 
cer approach the Comtesse de Baloit (for, no matter 
to whom I might be talking, the Comtesse was ever in 
my sight) , bow low, and apparently deliver some mes- 
sage to her. I saw her turn to the lady who stood near 
her (the one with whom I had seen her driving, whose 
bearing was so stern and haughty, and who, I did not 
doubt, was the duchesse I had heard spoken of as de- 
siring to marry her to the chevalier), and then the 
officer offered an arm to each of them and bore them 
away to the cabinet to which the First Consul had 
withdrawn. 

I did not know why this should be cause for anxiety 
on my part, but none the less I felt anxious. When, 
a few minutes later, the same officer approached the 


350 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

Chevalier Le Moyne and delivered to him also a mes- 
sage, and the chevalier deliberately turned to me with 
a smile of triumph, and then followed the officer to the 
same cabinet, I felt doubly anxious. Indeed, so great 
had my anxiety become that it was almost impossible 
for me to keep up longer the semblance of gay con- 
verse with the witty beauties about me. 

The chevalier’s smile of triumph meant one of two 
things— either terrible for me, but one impossible to 
think of. It meant, “You see, now I have my chance 
to denounce you to the First Consul, and I shall use 
it” — which would mean nothing less than death for 
me; or, it meant, “You see, the First Consul is bring- 
ing his influence to bear upon my marriage with the 
Comtesse de Baloit; it is all arranged”— which would 
mean something far worse than death for me. 

I was not surprised, therefore, and I was almost re- 
lieved when ten minutes later the officer touched me 
on the shoulder. 

“The First Consul desires your presence in his cabi- 
net, Monsieur, ’ ’ he said ; and I turned and followed 
him, conscious that I was followed in turn by all eyes. 
There had been no surprise when first the comtesse 
and then the chevalier had been summoned, for every 
one thought he understood— the First Consul’s power- 
ful influence was to be brought to bear upon a recalci- 
trant maiden; and while some pitied, none doubted 
that the First Consul ’s influence would avail. But no 
one knew what connection I could have with the affair, 
and the first moment of startled surprise was followed 
by a murmur of curious surmises. 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


351 


Amid that murmur I walked as one who goes to his 
execution; for froln the moment the officer touched 
me upon the shoulder I had known what the cheva- 
lier’s smile of triumph meant, and I knew that I was 
on my way to be accused and condemned, and, for 
aught I knew, marched off to instant execution under 
the eyes of the Comtesse de Baloit. As I passed Mon- 
sieur Marbois, his eyes, filled with a startled alarm, 
met mine. I tried to reassure him with a smile, but I 
fear it was sorry work, for a sudden rush of remem- 
brance of all his goodness to me overwhelmed me and 
came near to unmanning me. 

Just inside the door of the cabinet the officer 
stopped, and motioned to me also to stay my steps. 
On whatever errand I had been sent for, it was evi- 
dent that neither the First Consul nor any one else 
was quite ready for me. The Consul was seated, while 
on one side of him stood the chevalier, and on the other 
the duchesse and the Comtesse de Baloit; and that 
any man should remain seated in the presence of the 
comtesse filled me at once with a blind rage that ill 
prepared me to play my part in what was about to 
follow. The attitude of the three struck me at once 
as significant: the duchesse complacent, with almost 
a smile upon her haughty features, and to the best of 
her ability beaming upon the First Consul ; the cheva- 
lier eager, obsequious, fawning ; the comtesse her head 
held proudly up, a little frown between her brows, her 
eyes flashing ; impatience, annoyance, disdain ex- 
pressed in every feature. The First Consul was 
speaking as we entered, and I thought his tones were 


352 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


meant to be persuasive; they were less rasping than 
I had often heard them. 

“The estates are very great, Mademoiselle. ’ ’ (And 
again I was indignant that he should address her as 
Mademoiselle, a title which I felt belonged to no man 
to use but to me. I knew, of course, that it was but 
the common usage,— that titles were not permitted in 
republican France,— but none the less I was angry.) 
“Your father was almost the richest man in France,” 
he was saying. “Should I restore these estates to you, 
I must have some guaranty that they will be used for 
the welfare of the republic, and not against it. Citi- 
zen Le Moyne is such a guaranty. His sword is al- 
ready pledged to the service of the republic, and to 
the Citizeness Le Moyne I will restore all the estates 
of her father. ’ ’ 

A bright red spot burned in each of Pelagie’s 
cheeks. I know not what she might have said (though 
she looked not as if she would meekly yield assent to 
this powerful plea), for at that moment the First 
Consul discovered our entrance and turned to the 
chevalier. 

“Citizen Le Moyne/’ he said, “you asked us to 
send for this young man. He is here. What has the 
nephew of Monsieur Marbois to do with this matter?” 

A malicious smile played round the chevalier’s lips. 

“If you remember, Citizen First Consul,” he said 
“I told you that at one time mademoiselle was not 
averse to my suit— that in all probability I would have 
won her hand in St. Louis, but that her mind was 
poisoned against me by malicious insinuations and 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


353 


fabrications, the work of a rival who desired to win 
her for himself ? ’ y 

The chevalier waited for the Consul ’s reply, and he 
nodded curtly. 

“Well?” 

“Citizen First Consul, that rival is the nephew of 
Minister Marbois, and I have brought him here to 
ask him to renounce publicly all claims to the hand of 
the Citizeness de Baloit.” 

I saw a flash in the beautiful eyes, and a proud toss 
of the little head that I well knew meant, “He has no 
claim,” and I hastened to speak. 

“Sire,” I said quickly, and then stopped in confu- 
sion. How could I have made such an egregious blun- 
der as to address the first citizen of the republic by a 
royal title? Yet it was a natural enough mistake, for 
no Czar or Sultan or Grand Mogul was ever a more 
autocratic ruler than he, or made men tremble more 
at his nod. I thought I had no doubt ruined my cause 
in the very outset, for a dark frown gathered between 
the Consul's brows, but it quickly disappeared. 

“I believe you spoke innocently, young man,” he 
said, with a smile of rare sweetness. “Speak on!” 

“Pardon, Citizen First Consul,” I said— “it was 
indeed an innocent mistake” ; and then I added with a 
sudden impulse of audacity, “but a very natural one.” 

The Consul answered me only with his flashing 
smile, that transfigured his face, and I hurried on : 

“I wish to say, sir, that I have no claim to the 
hand of Mademoiselle la Comtesse.” I saw from the 
tail of my eye her head take a prouder pose and her 

23 


354 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


lips curl scornfully as she perceived that I was tamely 
renouncing my “ claim’ ’ at the chevalier’s bidding; 
but I went calmly on: “I have always known that 
there was a great gulf fixed between the proud Lady of 
France of royal blood and a simple American gentle- 
man. Mademoiselle la Comtesse has never given me 
any reason to hope that that gulf could be crossed, 
but,” and I turned and looked straight at the cheva- 
lier,— and if my head was flung back too proudly and 
my eyes flashed too fiercely and my voice rang out too 
defiantly, it was from no lack of respect to the great 
Bonaparte, but because my soul was seething with 
wrath and indignation against that cowardly villain 
— “but should Mademoiselle la Comtesse give me the 
faintest hope that the honest love of an honest Ameri- 
can heart could weigh with her against lands and ti- 
tles, that the devotion of a lifetime to her every 
thought and desire could hope to win her love, then no 
argument the Chevalier Le Moyne could bring to bear 
would have a feather’s weight with me. I would re- 
nounce my ‘ claim to her hand’ only with my life!” 

The First Consul’s eyes were smiling as I ceased 
speaking; there was no frown on his brow. The du- 
chesse looked aghast, as if it were inconceivable blas- 
phemy that I should think of aspiring to the comtesse, 
and the chevalier’s face was dark, with an ugly sneer 
distorting his lips. But I cared little how Consul or 
duchesse or chevalier took my speech : I cared only for 
what mademoiselle might think. I glanced quickly at 
her. Her head was drooping, her long lashes were 
sweeping her cheek, her face was rosy red, and a half- 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


355 


smile was playing about her mouth. My heart beat 
high with exultant joy. I turned proudly to the 
chevalier and awaited the thunderbolt I knew was sure 
to fall. He, too, had seen mademoiselle’s soft and 
drooping aspect, and the sight had lashed him to fury. 
But before he had a chance to speak, the First Consul 
himself spoke with good-natured raillery: 

“I think, Citizen Le Moyne, your golden-haired 
giant makes a very good plea for himself. Suppose I 
offer him a position on my staff and make a French- 
man of him, and then let the Citizeness de Baloit 
choose between you? Perhaps her estates would be as 
safe in his hands as in yours.” 

Had the First Consul uttered his speech with the 
purpose of lashing the chevalier to fury and goading 
him to still greater venom against me, he could have 
taken no better course to accomplish it. 

“Safe!” he hissed. “Safe in the hands of an as- 
sassin ! You would give mademoiselle and her estates 
to the man who hid in your closet to attempt your life 
in your bath ! Regardez ! the coward— the sneak— the 
villain ! When your Mameluke discovers him he flees. 
I run to your defense. Does he meet me with his 
sword like an honorable gentleman ? No ! he trips me 
with the foot like a school-boy, and throws me down 
the stair, to be the laughing-stock of my fellow-offi- 
cers ! Because he is a giant, he falls upon your sentry 
of small stature and hurls him down the terraces ! He 
calls to his trick horse,— trained in the circus, I do not 
doubt,— and rides away in the dark, and thinks no 
one will ever know ! But 1 know. I have seen his 


356 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


tricks in America. He is a clown— a mountebank! 
No gentleman would touch his hand!” 

The chevalier’s voice had grown shriller and higher 
with each word, till he ended in a scream, tearing his 
hair, rushing up and down the cabinet in his fury, and 
pointing every epithet with a long finger extended to- 
ward me. I could have smiled at such childish rage 
but that it was too serious a matter to me for smiling. 
Mademoiselle ’s eyes were wide with terror and amaze, 
and the Consul’s brow grew darker with every word 
of the chevalier’s. 

“Officer, call the guard!” he said in his rasping 
voice, as soon as the chevalier gave him a chance to 
speak, and I knew my doom was sealed. 

But mademoiselle sprang forward, one arm out- 
stretched to stay the officer, and one extended toward 
the Consul in supplication. 

“No, no, officer, not yet!” she cried, and then to 
Bonaparte : 

“Oh, Citizen Consul, it is all a terrible mistake! I 
know him well. He could not be guilty of so dreadful 
a crime! He could not do anything mean or low or 
dishonorable. There is no gentleman in the world 
more generous and noble! And the man who de- 
nounces him owes his life to him ! ’ ’ 

“Look at him, Mademoiselle,” said the Consul, 
harshly, “and see if his looks do not confess him the 
culprit.” 

I knew that I must look the very picture of con- 
scious guilt, for every word mademoiselle had uttered 
had pierced me like a two-edged sword. I might have 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


357 


braved the chevalier's accusations and the First Con- 
sul's suspicions (for, after all, neither had any evi- 
dence against me) , but I could not bear her generous 
confidence in me, feeling that I had so miserably for- 
feited my right to it by indulging in a foolish boyish 
prank. I did not raise my head (where it had sunk 
in shame), but by reason of being'so much taller I yet 
could see her turn toward me, see her look of implicit 
trust change slowly to doubt and fear. Then I heard 
her utter one low cry, 4 ‘Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur!" 
and turn away. In a moment my resolve was taken. 
I would make a clean breast of it; she should not 
think me worse than I was. I lifted my head. 

“Mademoiselle!" I cried, and she turned quickly 
toward me and looked straight into my eyes with a 
look that was hard to bear. “I am guilty Mademoi- 
selle! I am the man who was in the First Consul's 
closet, and who escaped on Fatima's back." 

The Consul made a motion toward the officer, but I 
turned to him quickly. 

“I beg you, sire,"— and this time I did not know 
that I had said it, not until long afterward, when one 
of those who heard told me of it,— “that you will not 
send your officer for the guard until I have made my 
confession; then you can send for it, and I will go 
away quietly, without resistance." 

“Very well, officer; you can wait," said Bonaparte, 
still harshly. The rest of my confession I addressed 
directly to him. 

“I am no clown, mountebank, or circus rider in 
my own country, sir, as the Chevalier Le Moyne 


358 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


would have you believe; I am the son of a Philadel- 
phia gentleman, and the nephew of Madame Marbois. 
Unfortunately, life in my native land has bred in me 
a spirit of adventure that has many times been near 
my undoing. It has also bred in me a great love for 
the life of a soldier, and a great admiration for the 
famous soldiers of history. When I accompanied my 
uncle to St. Cloud, and knew that he was summoned 
there to meet the First Consul, I was seized with a 
desire to enter the palace and roam through the rooms 
where the First Consul dwelt. When I found admis- 
sion was not permitted I thought it would be a fine ad- 
venture to find my way in without permission. It was 
a boy’s wild spirit of daring, and a boy’s almost idola- 
trous hero-worship that led me into such a scrape. ’ 

The Consul interrupted me here, but I thought his 
tones a little less harsh than before: 

“Did your uncle know of your intention to enter 
the palace ?” 

“Most certainly not, Citizen First Consul,” I an- 
swered, “else had I never accomplished it.” 

“Then how did you find your way to my closet?” 

“I followed a servant through some winding cor- 
ridors, but an officer suddenly appeared. I fled, 
opened the first door I came to, saw myself in a dress- 
ing-room, opened another, and found myself in the 
closet connecting with your cabinet.” 

All of which was literally true, and implicated 
neither Gaston nor Felice, I hoped. The Consul 
signed to me to go on with my story. 

“All would have been well, and I 


should have 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


359 


slipped out the way I came, had not the First Con- 
sul decided to take a bath.” 

I was watching my auditor narrowly as I talked, 
for I felt my life depended upon his change of 
mood, and I thought I saw here the least glimmer of 
a twinkle in his eye ; but if it was there it was ban- 
ished instantly, and his face was as set and stern 
as before. 

“I have never heard any words, your”— I started to 
say “your Majesty,” caught myself, and stumbled 
miserably— “your— your— Excellency, that filled me 
with greater dismay than these : ‘ Tell my valet to pre- 
pare my bath’!” 

Again I thought I caught that fleeting twinkle of 
the eye, but could not be sure. 

“There was no hope for me,” I went on, “but to 
wait for the First Consul to finish his bath; but, un- 
fortunately for me, he is fonder of his bath than 
most men, and I stood in that dark closet in an agony 
of suspense, and revolving in my mind every con- 
ceivable plan of escape, for what seemed to me many 
long hours. All might still have been well,— for in the 
nature of things even the First ConsuFs bath must 
come to an end sometime, — had I not made a slight 
noise which the quick ears of the Consul and the 
Mameluke heard. I was discovered, and there was 
nothing for me to do but to flee through the audi- 
ence-chamber and the main corridor, surprising the 
guard at the door, who, in his turn, raised the whole 
palace in pursuit. 

“I was distancing my pursuers, and should have 


360 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


gotten out of the palace without difficulty, but that 
at the head of the grand staircase I met the Cheva- 
lier Le Moyne, running from the opposite end of the 
corridor. I would not under ordinary circumstances 
refuse a sword encounter with the chevalier (though 
I would prefer an opponent with a nicer sense of 
honor), but there was no time for such an encounter 
now if I would not have the whole palace upon me, 
and, besides, it was most important that the chevalier 
should not recognize me. There was nothing to do 
but to hide my face with my arm as if shielding it 
from his sword, and trip him up, as he says, school- 
boy fashion. I am sorry that it should have hurt his 
self-esteem to be vanquished by such a youthful trick, 
and regret still more that he should have suffered in 
the estimation of his fellow-ofScers thereby.” 

This time the twinkle in the Consul’s eye was un- 
mistakable, and I could hear the chevalier grinding 
his teeth with rage. 

“As for your sentry,” I continued, “he was aiming 
his gun to fire at me. There was no time for ceremony. 
I could have spitted him upon my sword, which was 
in my hand, and it might have been more respectful ; 
but I dislike bloodshed, unless it is absolutely un- 
avoidable, and so I threw up his gun with my arm, 
and sent him spinning after it in the dark. I had left 
my mare Fatima — who is no trick horse, but a young 
Arabian trained by myself from colthood to do my bid- 
ding — in a pine thicket close by. I was on her back 
and away just in time to escape your mounted guards, 
who thundered out the gates of the park scarce twenty 


THE CONSUL’S SENTENCE 


361 


paces behind me. Had Fatima been less swift I had 
not been here to tell the tale. I hope the First Consul 
will believe me when I say I have suffered much from 
remorse for my rash and thoughtless act. It was a 
wild spirit of adventure that led me into it, but I see 
clearly now that does not in the least excuse it, and 
I am ready to atone for it in any way you decree.’ ’ 

The eye of the First Consul, clear, piercing, heart- 
reading, had been upon me through the whole of this 
recital ; but I, feeling that I was keeping nothing back 
(save only Gaston and Felice), and being nerved up 
to meet whatever fate should befall, bore its scrutiny 
well. He was silent for a moment after I had finished 
speaking, and my heart sank steadily down, for life 
looked very bright to me and I began to be very sure I 
had forfeited it by my foolishness. Suddenly the Con- 
sul spoke, but it was not to me nor to the chevalier ; he 
turned to Pelagie. 

4 'Mademoiselle, that was a boyish escapade, cer- 
tainly, and it was a very pretty boy that contrived 
it. What do you think would be suitable punishment 
for such a crime? You shall be the arbiter of his 
fate.” 

Mademoiselle gave me one fleeting glance, saucy 
merriment dancing in her eye; then she turned to 
Bonaparte, and, curtsying low, she said with pretty 
archness : 

"Citizen First Consul, I know him well, and I know 
that only death could be a greater punishment to him 
than to be called a 'pretty boy’! Do you not think 
his crime is atoned for?” 


362 


THE EOSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Bonaparte’s wonderful smile lighted his face and 
fell on mademoiselle with almost too great sweetness, 
I thought. 

“It is as you say, Mademoiselle,” he replied. “Of- 
ficer, you need not call the guard.” 

But I, suddenly relieved from the fear of death, 
stood there scarlet with confusion, head drooping, 
and ready to sink through the floor with shame, while 
I mentally anathematized my yellow curls and rosy 
cheeks and blue eyes, and most of all my domtiferous 
vanity that had led me to array myself in shining 
white satin and glittering gold lace, that I was sure 
made me look fairer and rosier and more than ever 
like a big blond baby. 


CHAPTER XXPV 


A NEW CHEVALIER OF FRANCE 


“Our hopes, like toweriug falcons, aim 
At objects in an airy height.” 

O FFICER,” said Bonaparte, in his iciest tones, 
“ conduct Citizeness Capet and Citizen Le Moyne 
back to the salon. I have something to say to the 
others that it will not be necessary for them to hear. 
You need not return yourself until I ring for you.” 

Madame la Duchesse glared at the little figure lazily 
and haughtily reclining at ease in the deep-armed 
chair while we all stood meekly before him. I think 
for a moment she was tempted to spring upon him and 
tear his eyes out. That the parvenu ruler of the re- 
public should so address a member not only of the old 
nobility but the old royalty, was more than she could 
bear. A cool stare from the fathomless eyes of the 
Consul made her think better of it; she turned and 
accompanied the chevalier (who was nigh to foaming 
at the mouth with ill-suppressed rage) back to the 
salon. 

As they left the cabinet, conducted in state by the 
officer, Bonaparte turned to Pelagie. 

“Mademoiselle la Comtesse,” he said in tones whose 
suavity were in marked contrast to the coldness of his 
363 


364 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


last speech, “will you not be seated? I am sorry 
to have kept you standing so long. I have asked you 
to wait while I spoke to this young man, because I 
have something more to say to you on the subject we 
were discussing. I beg, therefore, you will make your- 
self perfectly comfortable while you wait.” 

I think Pelagie was of half a mind to decline the 
Consult courtesy, for she hesitated a moment, and I 
saw a dangerous spark leap into his eyes. I do not 
know whether she saw it also, or whether she simply 
decided it was better to be as complaisant as pos- 
sible in small matters, since she might have to he 
recalcitrant in great ones. She sat down, apparently 
cool and collected, but in the chair most distant from 
the First Consul. I had noted the change in the 
form of his address, and wondered at it ; but I believe 
he liked titles, and was glad to use them when there 
were no jealous ears about to find fault with his 
lapse from republican simplicity. He did not ask me 
to sit down, but turned to me as soon as Pelagie had 
taken her seat, and began abruptly: 

“I made a proposition a few moments ago in jest; 
I now make it in earnest: I offer you a position on 
my staff as military aide. The young man who has 
the skill to extricate himself from such an escapade 
as yours is of the stuff I would like to use in my ser- 
vice, and when he adds to his other qualities the ability 
to tell his story so discreetly that it is impossible to 
guess whether or not he has heard anything of state 
councils and family quarrels, he is of still greater 
value in such a capacity.” 


A NEW CHEVALIER OF FRANCE 


365 


I was overwhelmed. Lifted from the depths of dis- 
grace and fear of death to the pinnacle of my day- 
dreams realized (for it had ever been my fondest 
dream to be a soldier of fortune, and to serve under 
the great Bonaparte— one that I had hardly dared to 
confess to myself) was almost more than brain could 
stand. More than that, to hear such words of com- 
mendation from the great soldier, when I had ex- 
pected severest censure, set heart throbbing and head 
whirling. I could only stammer out : 

“It would be the greatest joy and glory of my 
life to serve under the First Consul ! I shall have to 
get my uncle’s permission; may I defer my answer 
until I have an opportunity to consult him?” 

The Consul frowned quickly; I have no doubt he 
was used to receiving only instant acceptances of his 
offers. But in a moment his countenance cleared, and 
he answered, pleasantly enough : 

“Very well; I shall expect to hear from you the 
day after to-morrow”; and with a slight nod from 
him I understood myself dismissed. 

Somehow I liked not leaving Pelagie there alone 
with him, but there was no alternative. I thought, 
too, as I made my low bow to her in leaving the room, 
that her eyes met mine with a look of appeal in their 
dark depths it was hard to withstand. I determined 
to take my station in the salon near the cabinet door, 
so that if she should need me I would be near at 
hand. 

And thus it happened that a few minutes later 
I heard the Consul’s bed ring violently, saw the 


366 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


officer on duty enter the cabinet hastily, and immedi- 
ately return, conducting Pelagie. Her eyes were 
shining with a fierce light, a bright spot was burn- 
ing in either cheek, and her head was held so high 
and she was looking so straight forward with an 
unseeing gaze that she did not see me as she passed. 
I saw her take her place among the court ladies 
and Madame Bonaparte look at her with cold dis- 
pleasure. Being no longer on sentry duty, I joined 
my aunt, and she whispered to me: 

“The pretty Comtesse is in trouble. Madame will 
not easily forgive her husband spending ten minutes 
alone with her in his cabinet.’ ’ 

My soul raged within me, for I could see that others 
also were whispering about her, and for a moment I 
was ready to challenge all the world, including the 
great Bonaparte himself, who (though, I believed, 
innocently) had given occasion for the whisperings. 
Of course I knew that his interview with Pelagie had 
been entirely in behalf of the chevalier, but others did 
not seem to be so certain of it, and especially did 
Madame Bonaparte’s attitude toward her give rise 
to unpleasant comment. I longed eagerly for a word 
with Pelagie herself, but I saw no chance of obtain- 
ing it. Yet fortune favored me, for later in the 
evening, when they were preparing the piquet-tables, 
I found myself placed next to her; and once, when ex- 
citement over some disputed point in the game was 
running high, and the din of contending voices made a 
friendly cover for a low-toned speech, I managed 
to say to her ; 


A NEW CHEVALIER OF FRANCE 


367 


“You look troubled, Mademoiselle; is there any way 
in which I can be of service to you ? ’ ’ 

She smiled up at me with a look of trust that 
touched me greatly, and said hurriedly, mentioning 
no names (which might have been dangerous) : 

“I wanted this chance to tell you. He insisted on 
that marriage, and when I told him I would never 
marry a man who had denounced and betrayed in 
such cowardly fashion the man to whom he owed his 
life, he was very rude to me.” 

“Rude to you!” I whispered fiercely. “Then I 
cannot take service under him.” 

But she looked greatly alarmed when I said that, 
and whispered eagerly : 

“No, no, Monsieur ; do not say that ! Take the place, 
if you can, for your own sake,”— and then she hesi- 
tated a moment,— “and for mine.” 

There was no chance for another word; the game 
was breaking up, and the old duchess came and carried 
her off with a glare of distrust and suspicion at me, 
and I had no doubt she had been watching our whis- 
pered consultation. 

There was no chance, either, to tell my uncle of my 
interview with the Consul; for I could say nothing 
before my aunt without entering into explanations 
that I did not want to make to her, and I knew the fact 
of my returning to the salon instead of being hurried 
off to prison had quieted his alarms. The hour was 
late, and we said good night to each other in the 
corridors when we returned home, going at once to 
our rooms. 


368 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I hurried down-stairs the next morning, hoping to 
find my uncle taking his morning coffee in the garden, 
as he often did in this lovely spring weather; but I 
had overslept, and he was already gone. Late in the 
afternoon I sought him in his library, for I knew my 
answer to the First Consul must be decided upon at 
once, and I was anxious to tell him all about my 
interview. He answered my knock by a quick ‘ 4 Enter, 
enter !” and I found him brimming over with gay 
good humor and excitement. 

“You are just in time, my boy,” he cried. “I am 
expecting the American ambassadors every moment, 
and, if they offer no objection, you may stay and see 
how history is made. We are to sign the treaty that is 
to give the First Consul the munitions of war, and that 
will place America in the very front rank of nations. ’ ’ 

My own affairs seemed of small moment beside such 
stupendous ones, and I saw that my uncle had entirely 
forgotten his alarm of the evening before. I was my- 
self very greatly excited, for this was the moment to 
which I had been looking for nearly a year, though the 
realization about to be consummated was far exceeding 
my wildest fancies. 

The two gentlemen were announced a moment later, 
and they both greeted me cordially, for they knew my 
family at home and I had called on them several times 
in Paris. Nor did my uncle have to prefer a request 
that I should be permitted to be a witness of the sign- 
ing of the treaty. Mr. Livingston himself suggested 
that I be invited to remain, and, the others assenting 
most cordially, I thanked them heartily for their 


A NEW CHEVALIER OF FRANCE 


369 


courtesy, and retired to a seat in the background, 
where I might not intrude upon their deliberations. 

The document seemed long, and in fact, as I under- 
stood it, there were three documents — one which they 
called the treaty, and two others they called “con- 
ventions.” They read them all over carefully sev- 
eral times before signing, and I heard the article read 
that I had seen the First Consul write, and discov- 
ered that one convention was to determine in what 
manner the sixty million francs were to be paid to 
France, and the other convention was concerned with 
the twenty million francs to be paid by the United 
States to such of its citizens as held claims against 
France. 

There seemed to be some little discussions on a few 
minor points which were easily settled, and then very 
solemnly they each signed the three documents, Mr. 
Livingston writing his name first, then Mr. Monroe, 
and then my uncle. When this was done, the three 
gentlemen, as by a common impulse, rose to their feet 
and shook hands, their faces shining with a solemn 
light which I believe had nothing to do with self-glory, 
but with an unselfish joy at having accomplished an 
act that would bring honor and benefit to two great 
nations and to future generations. I, in my corner, 
was almost as proud as they, and quite as happy 
(when I thought of the honor that was to come to 
my country, and especially the blessings to that great 
West I was so interested in), and for the first time in 
my life I felt it might be almost finer to accomplish 
such great things by statesmanship and a stroke of the 

24 


370 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


pen than to win fame and glory by the sword. Then 
I saw that Mr. Livingston was beginning to speak. 
He stood up straight and tall and fine-looking, and his 
manner was very impressive and full of dignity and 
a kind of solemn joy. I was very proud of him as a 
representative of my country, and each word that he 
spoke made me prouder and happier. 

“We have lived long,” he began, “but this is the 
noblest work of our whole lives. The treaty which we 
have just signed has not been obtained by art or dic- 
tated by force; equally advantageous to the two con- 
tracting parties, it will change vast solitudes into flour- 
ishing districts. From this day the United States take 
their place among the powers of the first rank. The 
English lose all exclusive influence in the affairs of 
America. Thus one of the principal causes of Eu- 
ropean rivalries and animosities is about to cease. 
The instruments we have just signed will cause no 
tears to be shed ; they prepare ages of happiness for 
innumerable generations of human creatures. The 
Mississippi and Missouri will see them succeed one 
another, and multiply, truly worthy of the regard 
and care of Providence, in the bosom of equality, un- 
der just laws, freed from the errors of superstition 
and the scourge of bad government.” 

My uncle and Mr. Monroe seemed greatly impressed 
by his words (as, indeed, no one who heard them could 
help being) ; and then there was half an hour of 
pleasant talk, in which the three gentlemen kindly in- 
cluded me. As the American ambassadors took their 
leave, my uncle turned to me. 



The Signing of the Louisiana Purchase Treaty by 
Marbois, Livingston, and Monroe 






A NEW CHEVALIER OF FRANCE 


371 


“Well, my boy, ” he said, his kind face beaming, 
“we have settled the affairs of two great nations most 
satisfactorily; now we will settle yours. What did 
the First Consul want of you last evening 

I had made up my mind to tell my uncle all about 
my acquaintance with the Comtesse de Baloit and the 
Chevalier Le Moyne, if he had time to listen,— for 
otherwise it would be difficult to explain my inter- 
view with the Consul, or how I happened to be sum- 
moned to his presence,— and I asked him if he had 
time to hear a long story. He replied that he con- 
sidered he had accomplished enough for one day, and 
he should do nothing more, until dinner at least; he 
might possibly be summoned to an interview with the 
First Consul at the Tuileries later in the evening. 

He scarcely interrupted me through my long re- 
cital, unless an occasional heavy scowl at some special 
perfidy of the chevalier's could be called an interrup- 
tion. He chuckled with delight when I told how I 
tripped up the chevalier on the grand staircase of St. 
Cloud, and uttered a vigorous “Diable!" when he 
heard how I came to be summoned before the First 
Consul. He listened almost breathlessly to my ac- 
count of my interview with the Consul, and drew a 
great sigh of relief as I finished. 

“Why, my lad," he said, “you have been having 
great experiences! I wonder you could forget them 
sufficiently to be so deeply interested, as you seemed 
to be, in the doings of three old diplomats." 

I assured him that what the three diplomats had 
just accomplished was of greater interest to me than 


372 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


any of my own affairs could possibly be. In all my 
story I had touched as lightly as I could on the 
Comtesse de Baloit, hoping that my uncle would not 
discover that I had any special interest in that direc- 
tion ; but he was too astute a reader of human nature 
to be easily misled. 

‘ ‘ That is all very well, ’ 9 he said, in reply to my as- 
surance of a deeper interest in affairs of state than in 
my own ; ‘ ‘ I do not doubt for a moment that you be- 
lieve what you say, and I could easily believe it, too, 
if it were not for the Comtesse de Baloit. Such af- 
fairs are more engrossing than all others in the world, 
if I remember my own youthful days aright. But I 
had no idea the wind sat in that quarter, as your Mr. 
Shakspere would say. Have you any idea how high 
you are aspiring? I know you Americans stop at 
nothing; but, my dear boy, you might as well aspire 
to the hand of the Princess Charlotte of England!” 

“I am aspiring to the hand of no one, sir,” I an- 
swered rather hotly, for I knew so well how hopeless 
any dreams of mine might be that I liked not to have 
any one think I was cherishing false hopes. “ What- 
ever my feeling toward the Comtesse may be, I have 
never had the slightest hope. If Citizeness Capet, as 
the First Consul calls her, does not succeed in marrying 
the comtesse to the Chevalier Le Moyne, then her cou- 
sins the Comte d’Arbois and the Due d’Enghien will 
probably marry her into one of the reigning houses 
of Europe. Mademoiselle la Comtesse has shown me 
some kindness, but only such as any right-feeling 
young maiden would show to one who has been able to 


A NEW CHEVALIER OF FRANCE 


373 


do her some little service, and I am not one to presume 
upon her grateful feeling." 

My uncle looked at me for a moment with a little 
frown between his brows, as if he were trying to 
solve some perplexing question, and then the frown 
cleared away and he spoke smilingly: 

“Well, well, we will dismiss the Comtesse; that 
is too difficult a problem. And now for what is, after 
all, a question of more practical importance. Do you 
want to accept this offer of the First Consul 's ? ' 9 

“Very much, sir," I answered eagerly. 

‘ ‘ I doubt whether I have any right to give you per- 
mission to do so," responded my uncle; “but this 
much authority I will assume. If the First Consul 
is willing to take you subject to the commands of your 
father when we can hear from him, I will give my 
permission, and I will write to your father by the 
first packet. It will be ten or twelve weeks before we 
can possibly hear from him, and it may be much 
longer. But I am rather relieved that you desire to ac- 
cept the First Consul's offer. He does not like his 
favors rejected, and he is quite capable of holding me 
responsible for having influenced you, should you 
decline." 

The First Consul was willing to take me on those 
conditions (I think he felt no doubt of my father's 
answer; such confidence had he in the magnetism of 
his own name that he believed any man would feel 
proud to have his son serve under him), and a very 
few days saw me arrayed in my glittering uniform 
and spending every spare moment, when I was off 


374 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


duty, riding up and down the Champs-Elysees in the 
hope not so much of seeing the Comtesse de Baloit as 
of being seen by her. For I felt that half the joy I 
had in my gorgeous trappings would be gone if she 
could not see them and admire them too. 

And as my sword clanked and my spurs jingled 
while Fatima pranced and curveted under me in the 
bright spring weather, my heart sang an accompani- 
ment to them. 

Could it be possible that the great Bonaparte might 
turn the rest of his speech from jest to earnest? 
Would he, perhaps, now that he had made me his 
aide, trust her to me as willingly as to the chevalier? 

And higher still sang my heart as Fatima, in answer 
to my excited touch, leaped and bounded along the 
avenue, and I remembered that night upon La Belle 
Riviere when mademoiselle had wished that I was a 
chevalier of France. Was I not one now in fact, if not 
in name l 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE COMTESSE DE BALOIT SENDS FOR HER HUNTER 

tl Take a straw and throw it into the air ; you may see by that 
which way the wind is.” 

iL my riding up and down the Champs-Elysees 



JLJL was like to have been for naught. We had re- 
ceived orders to be in readiness to start on the morrow 
for Belgium, where Bonaparte was to make his head- 
quarters while preparing for war with England, and 
still I had not seen the comtesse, and she had not seen 
my beautiful regimentals. 

My packing was done, my last arrangements made, 
most of my good-bys said; there was nothing left to 
do out to take my last ride down the avenue. And 
this time not in vain ! There she sat in her gorgeous 
coach of scarlet and gold with the footmen and coach- 
men in dazzling liveries of gold lace and scarlet plush, 
and beside her, not the stern duchesse this time, but a 
younger woman who looked as if she might be a less 
formidable guardian. 

She saw me, though for a moment she did not recog- 
nize me in my new and gaudy plumage. When she 
did, her eager look of welcome more than repaid me 
for my fruitless rides up and down the avenue. She 


375 


376 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


signaled to her coachman to stop, and with a pretty 
little peremptory gesture summoned me to her side. 
She seemed to have no fear of the lady beside her, and 
no doubt she was merely a paid companion, for she ig- 
nored her entirely, or noticed her presence only by 
using English when she had anything of serious im- 
port to say. 

“ ’T is Fatima I wish to see, sir,” she said as I 
drew up by her coach, my hat tucked under my arm. 
She put out her little hand and gently stroked the 
white star on Fatima’s forehead, and the mare whin- 
nied softly and rubbed her nose against the little 
gloved hand as if to say, “I remember you well ; those 
were famous rides we had in old St. Louis.” 

‘ ‘ And ’t is you I wish to see , 9 9 I responded boldly. 
“I have been looking for you for many days; why 
have you deserted the Champs-Elysees ? ” 

She looked up at me quickly, as if pleased with the 
audacity of the first part of my speech, but as I fin- 
ished with my question she dropped her eyes and 
seemed embarrassed. In a moment she spoke in a iow, 
constrained voice, and in English : 

‘ ‘My aunt and I have had misunderstandings. She 
wishes me to appear in public with a man I do not 
like. In Paris that means fiance. I will stay in my 
hotel with headaches rather than ride on the avenue 
beside him!” with sudden fire. Then she added with 
an attempt at her old lightness : 

“But I must drive on. Should it be reported to 
madame that I stopped to talk to Monsieur, I might 
have to suffer for it . 9 9 


THE COMTESSE SENDS FOR HER HUNTER 377 


A sudden horror seized me. 

“ Mademoiselle, they do not use force ?” I cried. 
“You are not held a prisoner ?” 

“No— not yet,” she said slowly. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, looking steadily into her 
eyes, * ‘ I have tried to see you to say good-by ; I leave 
Paris to-morrow. ’ ’ 

I saw her go suddenly white, but in a moment she 
spoke very calmly, and in French : 

“Do you go back to America, Monsieur?” 

“No, to Belgium with the First Consul: to Ant- 
werp, I believe.” 

I spoke also in French, but udded in English : 

“Mademoiselle, if you need me, I will not go to 
Belgium; I will resign.” 

She shook her head. 

“No; I am sorry you are going, but I would not 
have you resign. The First Consul is vindictive, they 
say; should you reject his favors, he may remember 
your St. Cloud offense.” 

‘ ‘ I care not for that ! 9 9 And then I added moodily, 
‘ ‘ They will compel you to marry him. ’ ’ 

She threw up her head in much the same fashion 
Fatima throws up hers when she scents conflict in the 
distance. ^ 

‘ ‘ They cannot coerce me!” she said proudly, and 
then she added, half playfully, half defiantly: 

‘ ‘ They tell me I have royal blood ; they shall see I 
know how to use my royal prerogative.” She held 
out her hand to me and spoke again in French : 

“Good-by, Monsieur, and bon voyage 1” 


378 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I bent low over her hand. 

“Let me stay, Mademoiselle, ’ ’ I whispered. 

“What! and lose your beautiful uniform! ’T is 
too severe a test of friendship. No, no, Monsieur/ ’ 
with the old mocking laugh. But before I had time to 
resent her teasing speech, her mood had changed. She 
leaned far out of the carriage and threw her beautiful 
arm over Fatima’s arching neck. 

“Good-by, Fatima,” she cried— “dear, dear Fa- 
tima ! 9 9 And as Fatima, in answer to her caress, drew 
closer to her, she dropped a light kiss on her soft muz- 
zle, leaned back in her carriage with a signal to the 
coachman, and rolled away. 

The weeks that followed were in some respects the 
strangest weeks of my life, and often in memory 
they return to me as a confused dream. War had 
been declared with England, and in Antwerp, in 
Dunkirk, on the Loire, in every little bay and inlet 
that indented the coast from Brest, where a great 
squadron was gathered, to Boulogne, where another 
was getting together, ships were building of every 
kind: floating fortresses of wood, light pinnaces and 
yawls for carrying the swift van of an army, and 
heavy barges for the impedimenta of war. A mighty 
flotilla, gathering from the Scheldt to the Garonne, 
from Toulon and Rochefort to Calais and Antwerp, to 
bear a vast invading army to the shores of England. 

In constant communication with the great captain, 
I yet saw little of him, for day and night I was kept 
riding over the green fields of France, through the 


THE COMTESSE SENDS FOR HER HUNTER 379 


beautiful May and June, carrying orders, sometimes 
to little inland streams where tiny yawls were build- 
ing, sometimes to great city dockyards where mighty 
ships were on the stays. And though these were not 
the deeds of valor I had dreamed of, I began to real- 
ize what a wonderful mind was planning all these 
wide-spread activities, and to understand that a great 
captain must be something more than a good fighter, 
and prowess on the field of battle was not all that 
was required of a soldier. 

Yet I began to long for the din and stir of conflict 
and to see my hero, as in dreams I had often seen him, 
calm and unmoved, ’midst smoke and carnage, direct- 
ing with unerring genius masses of men, infantry, 
cavalry, artillery, through the mazes of battle ; or 
himself leading a resistless charge, sword extended, 
waving his men forward to victory and glory. 

So when an old officer who had seen many wars told 
me he had no doubt it would be two years before the 
preparations for war were finished and war actually 
begun, my heart sank within me. Two years of hard 
work day and night and no glory ! To be aide to the 
First Consul was not what I had dreamed of, and my 
thoughts turned longingly back to Paris and the Com- 
tesse de Baloit. All the more did my thoughts turn 
in that direction because the Chevalier Le Moyne, who 
was also on the general’s staff, had been for some 
weeks absent from headquarters. I always studiously 
avoided him if we happened to be in quarters at the 
same time, and so I did not at first miss him; but 
when day after day and even weeks passed without 


380 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


his reporting at mess, I began to be greatly troubled. 
My imagination pictured him as back in Paris urging 
his suit to Pelagie, and I feared greatly, either that 
she would at last yield to his importunities, seeing no 
way of escape, or that some trouble would come to her 
if she persistently scorned him. 

In the midst of my anxieties a letter was brought 
me from home. The ten weeks were up when I could 
begin to expect an answer to my uncle’s letter asking 
my father’s permission for me to take service under 
Bonaparte, and I tore it eagerly open, hardly know- 
ing, since hostilities would be so long delayed, whe- 
ther I most hoped that it would contain his permission 
or his refusal. In my haste I had not noticed that it 
was not my father’s writing on the outside, and that 
made it the greater shock to find within, in my mo- 
ther’s dearly loved penmanship, only these few words : 

“ Your father is very ill ; come home at once.” 

I had never known my father to be ill even for a 
day. I knew this must be no ordinary illness to cause 
so brief and so peremptory a summons home, and all 
my world seemed suddenly topsy-turvy. 

I loved my father, but I had been much away from 
home, in school at Princeton, and in my short vaca- 
tions I had found him somewhat cold and stern in 
manner; so that my love for him was more of rever- 
ence and honor than the tender affection I felt for 
my beautiful mother. None the less was my heart 
torn with anguish at the thought of what might befall 
in the long weeks before I could possibly reach his 
side, and how vainly I wished that I had been a better 


THE COMTESSE SENDS FOR HER HUNTER 381 


son, and shown him more of the love that was really 
in my heart for him. 

There was no time to be lost, and my first duty was 
to seek the First Consul and show him my letter. He 
was more kind and considerate than I could have ex- 
pected. 

“You have my sincerest sympathy/ ’ he said. 
“There is no question as to your course. Your first 
duty is to your father. I am sorry to lose my officer 
whom I have found even more efficient than I had 
expected and for whom I predicted great glory as 
soon as actual war should commence. But it may be 
possible you will find your father entirely recovered 
on your arrival at home ; in that case, and should you 
have his permission to return, your old position will 
be open to you . 9 9 

I hardly knew how to thank him suitably and to ex- 
press my regret at leaving his service, and I have no 
doubt I did it awkwardly enough. As I was leaving 
the room he called me back. 

“Will you go to Paris before you sail?” 

There was nothing in the question to make me blush 
and stammer, yet I did both. 

“I must sail on the earliest packet, sir,” I said; 
“but if one is not sailing immediately I would like 
your permission to return to Paris and settle my af- 
fairs there and say good-by to my aunt and uncle . 9 9 

“It is no doubt the wiser course,” replied Bona- 
parte. “In sailing from Antwerp you are liable to 
fall into the hands of the English in passing the 
Straits of Dover. From Paris you can find a ship sail- 


382 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


ing from Le Havre carrying the American flag. It 
will be safer, and you will save time in going by Paris. 
Should you decide to do so, I shall have a commis- 
sion to intrust to you. ’ ’ 

Since the First Consul advised it, I decided on the 
moment, and an hour later, saddle-bags packed, my 
man Cassar holding his own horse and Fatima at the 
door, I was ready to start, only awaiting the Consul ’s 
commission. An officer rode up and handed me a 
packet. 

“From General Bonaparte, sir,” he said; and as I 
opened my saddle-bags to put the packet away for 
safe keeping, my eye caught the directions on the 
wrapper. 

“To be delivered to the Comtesse de Baloit, Fau- 
bourg St. Germain.” 

The sight of the inscription gave me only pleasure, 
and I was tempted to think that the Consul had de- 
vised this commission especially to give me an oppor- 
tunity of seeing the comtesse. It seemed to me an 
evidence of wonderful delicacy of feeling and thought- 
fulness for others on the part of the great general,, and 
I could not sufficiently admire him or be grateful 
to him. There was no question but that his commis- 
sion would be faithfully executed the very first possi- 
ble moment after my arrival in Paris. 

It was early morning, the dew still on the hedges 
and the lark still singing his matins, as we entered the 
city with a stream of market-carts bringing in fresh 
fruits and vegetables and flowers for the early morn- 
ing markets. Only working-people were in the streets : 


THE COMTESSE SENDS FOR HER HUNTER 383 


men going to their day’s labor, blanchisseuses with 
their clothes in bundles on their heads, cooks and 
maids of all work with their baskets on their arms 
going to the market for the day’s supply of food for 
the family. 

Crossing the Place de la Bastille, a man on horse- 
back rode up beside us and gave us good day. He 
had evidently come in with the country folk and was 
himself without doubt a small market-gardener, for 
the loam of the garden was on his rough cowhide boots 
and his blue smock was such as a countryman wears. 
I thought at first there was something strangely fa- 
miliar in his face, and then I remembered I had seen 
him the evening before at the little country inn, 
twenty miles out from the city, where we had spent 
the night. He, like us, must have started at early 
dawn to reach the city by seven o’clock, very like for 
the same reason— to take advantage of the cool of the 
day; and like us also, he must have had a very good 
horse to make that distance in that time. I glanced at 
his horse as the thought occurred to me, and saw that 
it was indeed a good horse. Coal-black, except for 
a white star on his forehead and one white stocking, 
he was powerfully built, and yet with such an easy 
stretch of limb as promised speed as well as endur- 
ance. I thought it a little strange that a country 
farmer should own a horse of such points and breed- 
ing as this one showed itself to be, and perhaps my 
thought appeared in my face, for the countryman an- 
swered it. 

“ ’T is a fine horse, Monsieur, is it not?” he said. 


384 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


I noticed that he spoke with a very slight lisp, but 
that otherwise both his language and his intonations 
were better than I could have expected. 

“Yes,” I said. “Did you breed him yourself?” 

“Not exactly,” he answered, “but he was bred on 
an estate belonging to the Comtesse de Baloit, where 
I work, and I have helped to train him.” 

He must have seen my irrepressible start when he 
mentioned Pelagie’s name, for he looked at me curi- 
ously with something like either alarm or suspicion 
in his glance. I was tempted to tell him that I knew 
his mistress and expected to see her that very day, but 
I was saved from making such a foolish speech by the 
fellow himself. 

“I am bringing him into the city for the comtesse 
to try,” he said. “He is a very fine hunter.” 

6 1 Then your mistress intends to follow the chase ? ’ ’ 
I asked, feeling a queer little pang that I did not stop 
to explain to myself at the thought. 

“I suppose so, Monsieur, since she has sent for her 
hunter. ’ ’ 

We were now well down the Rue de la St. Antoine, 
just where the narrow street of Frangois-Miron comes 
in; and as if a sudden thought had struck him, the 
countryman said : 

“I go this way, Monsieur; adieu,” turned into the 
narrow street, and Caesar and I rode on into the Rue 
de Rivoli, past the Hotel de Ville, and so toward my 
uncle’s house. 

“Marsa,” said Caesar, as we turned off the Rue de 
Rivoli, “dat fellah had a gold belt and a little dagger 


THE COMTESSE SENDS FOR HER HUNTER 385 


stuck in it under his smock. I seed it when I ’s ridin ’ 
behind youse bof and de win’ tuk and blew up his 
smock-skirt . 9 9 

I believed the ‘ 4 gold belt” and the “little dagger” 
were inventions of Caesar’s, for he loved to tell won- 
derful tales ; but none the less was I uneasy and trou- 
bled, for suppose it should be true! I liked not the 
thought of a man wearing a concealed weapon going 
on a plausible errand to the Comtesse de Baloit. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE CONSUL'S COMMISSION 

t( Hope tells a flattering tale, 

Delusive, vain, and hollow. 

Ah ! let not Hope prevail, 

Lest disappointment follow.” 

N OT many hours later saw me seeking admit-, 
tanee to the stately but dilapidated hotel of the 
Comtesse de Baloit in the Faubourg St. Germain. I 
was determined to see Pelagie, and if possible alone, so 
I sent up word that a messenger from the First Con- 
sul desired to see Mademoiselle la Comtesse on busi- 
ness of importance. I feared, should I send up my 
own name, that the duchesse would not permit her to 
see me, but, had I known it, I could have sent no 
message less likely to win Pelagie ’s consent to an in- 
terview. It was only through a lurking suspicion of 
whom the messenger might be that she consented to 
see me. 

I was ushered into a room very luxuriously fur- 
nished, but in which everything had an air of faded 
grandeur— as if belonging to another age. The tapes- 
tries were not only faded but rapidly growing thread- 
bare, and the gold of the buhl furniture was peeling 
386 


THE CONSUL’S COMMISSION 


387 


off in strips, and in tables inlaid with fine mosaics 
many of the stones were wanting. All this lack of 
care or evidence of poverty rather surprised me, re- 
membering the magnificent coach and gorgeously liv- 
eried servants I had twice seen on the avenue. Then 
I recalled what I had often heard since coming to 
Paris, that the nobility of the old regime would starve 
and go cold at home to make the display in public they 
considered befitting their dignity. It seemed very sad 
to me, and I wondered if it could be because mademoi- 
selle did not have enough to eat that she had seemed 
of late to be growing thin and pale. To me, who am 
both somewhat of an epicure and a valiant trencher- 
man (and remembering the abundance she had been 
used to in America), nothing could seem more pitiful 
than to think of my little Pelagie as going hungry. 

Yet when, in a few minutes, she came in, radiantly 
beautiful in some Frenchy flowing gown of pale rose- 
color and much soft lace and ribbons, no one could 
think of her as hungry or poverty-pinched in any 
way, but only as some wonderful fairy queen who 
dined on peacocks ’ tongues and supped on nectar and 
ambrosia. 

She was greatly surprised to see me; I think she 
thought of me as a kind of Daniel venturing into the 
lion’s den. But the old lioness, the duchesse, was not 
with her, only the same companion I had seen in the 
carriage on the Champs-Elysees, and I felt once more 
that fate smiled on me. It meant much to me, for I 
knew not whether I should ever see her again, and I 
longed greatly to have a few minutes’ untrammeled 


388 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


conversation with her, such as I had often had in St. 
Louis in those days that seemed so far away. 

Perhaps my eyes dwelt too eagerly upon her. I 
never could quite remember how beautiful she was 
when I was away from her, and so every time I saw 
her I was dazzled afresh. This time, too, I was trying 
to fasten every lovely curve of cheek and throat, and 
glowing scarlet of lips, and shadowy glory of dark eyes 
and waving hair, and witching little curls about white 
brow and neck, yes, and every knot of lace and ribbon, 
so firmly in my mind that I might always have the 
beautiful picture to look on when there was no longer 
any hope of seeing again the bright reality. 

So absorbed was I in fixing fast in memory every 
little detail of the bright picture that I think I must 
have forgot my manners : it was only seeing the long 
lashes on the rose-tinted cheek that brought me to 
myself. I bent low over her hand and then put into 
it the packet the First Consul had intrusted me to give 
to her. 

“For me? From the First Consul ?” she said, in 
slow surprise. 

“Yes,” I said; “and when you have opened it, 
Mademoiselle, then I crave a few minutes ’ speech with 
you.” 

I turned and walked to one of the windows and 
stood looking down into the courtyard where Csesar 
was holding our horses, that mademoiselle might ex- 
amine its contents unobserved. 

I knew not what was in the package nor the con- 
tents of the note that accompanied it, but somehow I 


THE CONSUL’S COMMISSION 


389 


had had a feeling (perhaps because the First Consul 
had seemed so kind in his manner at our last inter- 
view, or perhaps only because my hopes pointed that 
way) that the Consul's note was to use his influence 
with her in my behalf, as he had once used it for the 
chevalier. Therefore as I stood with my back to her, 
looking down into the courtyard, my eyes saw not 
what they were looking at, for they were filled with a 
vision of future happiness and I was trembling with 
the beauty of the vision. 

“Monsieur !" I turned quickly, for -the voice was 
cold and hard, and it fell on my heart like the sleet of 
early spring falling on opening buds to chill them to 
death. And when I turned, the Pelagie that met my 
gaze was the Pelagie I had first seen in Mr. Gratiot's 
house: eyes blazing with wrath, little teeth close set 
between scarlet lips, and little hands tightly clenched. 
My heart froze at the sight. Could the Consul's plea 
for me have been so distasteful to her ? 

“Monsieur," she repeated, every word a poniard, 
“how did you dare bring me such a message!" 

I found no words to answer her, for if the message 
was what I had hoped, then I began to wonder how 
I had dared, though my spirit, as proud as hers, 
brooked not that she should take it as an insult. But 
she did not wait for any answer. 

“You!" she said, with inexpressible bitterness. 
“Has wearing the First Consul's uniform so changed 
you from the American gentleman I once knew that 
you delight to humiliate a poor and helpless lady 
of France?" 


390 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST 0 LOUIS 


“Mademoiselle la Comtesse,” I said coldly, for still 
the foolish idea clung to my brain that the First Con- 
sul had wished to further my suit, and that mademoi- 
selle had regarded it as humiliating that I should so 
presume, “I know not the contents of the First Con- 
sult note, but I think la Comtesse knows I would 
never willingly humiliate her.” 

“You know not!” and she half extended the note 
toward me, as if to show it to me, and then drew it 
quickly back, a sudden change in her manner from 
proud anger to shrinking shame. She turned to her 
companion and said in a cool tone of command : 

“You may wait for me, Henriette, in the blue salon ; 
I have something to say to Monsieur.” 

Henriette seemed to hesitate. No doubt in France 
it was not permitted to see a young gentleman alone, 
or perhaps Henriette had instructions from the du- 
chesse to be ever on guard when she herself could not 
be present. Mademoiselle saw her hesitation. 

“Go!” she said haughtily, and I believe no being 
on earth would have dared disobey that ringing tone 
of command. Henriette shrank from it, and as she 
hastened to obey, mademoiselle added in a gentler 
tone: 

“You may return in five minutes.” 

As she left the room, mademoiselle turned quickly 
to me, as if to lose no moment of the few she had given 
herself. 

“Monsieur,” she said, and her manner was the man- 
ner of the old Pelagie, “I hope you will forgive me 
for supposing for a moment that you knew the con- 


THE CONSUL’S COMMISSION 


391 


tents of the First Consul’s note. I cannot show it to 
you, but I am going to place a great trust in you. 
Monsieur, I cannot stay longer in France. Between 
the ducfliesse, the chevalier, and the First Consul, I 
will be driven to marry the chevalier, or— worse. Ah, 
Monsieur, if I had never left St. Louis!” 

She had spoken hurriedly, as if fearing to lose cour- 
age otherwise, but she looked not at me as she spoke, 
and her face was dyed with painful blushes. A hor- 
rible suspicion of the contents of that note almost 
froze my blood, but the next thought, that mademoi- 
selle must fly from France, sent it rushing hotly 
through my veins. 

“Mademoiselle,” I cried impetuously, “go home 
with me to America.” 

I saw her turn pale and draw herself up proudly. 
I did not dream she could misunderstand me : I only 
thought she scorned so humble a suitor. And the 
thought set fire to a pride that was equal to her own. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said sternly, “I cannot set you 
upon a throne nor place a crown upon your head, but 
in America the wife of an honorable gentleman is a 
queen always, his heart is her throne, his home is her 
kingdom, his love is her crown.” 

To my amazement, she was all soft and drooping 
and rosy and smiling. I was ready to pick her up and 
fly with her that moment, so adorable was she in this 
mood, but she would not let me come near her. 

‘ ‘ Monsieur, ’ ’ she said, looking up at me most 
sweetly, “to be the wife of an honorable American 
gentleman, it seems to me, would be great happiness; 


392 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


but you have not your father ’s permission to marry i 
he would not thank you for bringing home an emigre 
bride.” 

There came to me a sudden vision of my stern fa- 
ther. He would certainly think that was a matter on 
which he should be first consulted. He was capable 
of making it very unpleasant for my wife should I 
bring one home unannounced, and if he did not cut me 
off with a shilling, he might easily put me on so small 
an allowance as would make it impossible for me to 
maintain her in the luxury suited to her position. I 
would be glad to work for her, early and late, but I 
knew nothing about earning my own bread, and while 
I was learning to earn hers she might suffer for the 
comforts of life. 

Mademoiselle was quick to see my embarrassment, 
and I suppose her pride was touched, for when she 
spoke it was with her old hauteur. 

“It is very kind of Monsieur to think of offering me 
a refuge, but my plans are made.’’ 

I hardly heard her, for I was busy with my own 
thoughts. I interrupted her eagerly: 

“Mademoiselle, let me take you back to St. Louis 
and put you in Dr. Saugrain’s care; then I will make 
all necessary arrangements with my father and come 
for you. ’ ’ 

“You did not understand me, Monsieur / 9 she an- 
swered coldly; “my plans are made: I am going to 
my cousin the Due d’Enghien.” 

“The Due d’Enghien !” I repeated, in a dazed fash- 
ion. Had I not heard that her cousin would marry 


THE CONSUL’S COMMISSION 


393 


her into one of the royal families of Europe? This, 
then, was the knell to all my hopes ! This was the 
reason she answered me so coldly: there was some- 
thing better in store for her than to be the wife of a 
simple American gentleman. 

Well, I had never cherished any hopes ; had I not 
told both my uncle Francois and the First Consul so? 
Ah, but had I not? Had not every moment since I 
had first known her been a fluctuation between hope 
and despair? I had told the First Consul she had 
not given me any reason to hope; but had she not* 
Did she not seem a few minutes ago almost willing to 
become the wife of an American gentleman? What 
had changed her mood? 

While I was trying to collect my scattered thoughts 
she spoke again, hurriedly : 

“I am telling you this in great confidence, Mon 
sieur, because I can trust you. No one must know- 
least of all, any one in this house.’ ’ 

For a moment I could not speak. I turned away to 
the window and looked down once more into the court- 
yard with unseeing eyes. But it was no beautiful 
vision of the future that dimmed their gaze this time : 
it was the black darkness of despair that blinded them 
like a pall. 

Then I made a great resolve. The Comtesse de Ba- 
loit, the Bourbon princess, was not for such as I; 
but to mademoiselle, to my little Pelagie, I might still 
be loyal friend and offer devoted service. I turned 
toward her again. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “I will go with you to the 


394 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Due d’Enghien. I will never leave yon until I see 
you safe under the protection of your cousin. ’ ’ 

“What! The young officer of the First Consul 
aiding and abetting an emigre who flees from the 
First Consul! It is rank treason, Monsieur !” and 
Pelagie smiled with something of her old merry rail- 
lery. 

“I am no longer an aide, Mademoiselle/ ’ I said 
seriously. * ‘ 1 have been called home by the illness of 
my father, and General Bonaparte has relieved me 
from duty.” 

Her quick sympathy was sweet to see and to feel, 
but I did not dare linger in its warmth, for the five 
minutes, I knew, must be nearly up. 

“Now, Mademoiselle,” I said, “since I am no longei 
in service to the First Consul, there will be no treason 
in helping you in your flight— ” 

But she interrupted me: “No, Monsieur, it is not 
necessary ; the Prince de Polignac has made every ar- 
rangement and will see me safe to my cousin. * ’ 

“The Prince de Polignac!” I exclaimed, in sur- 
prise. “But he is in exile, and almost as much under 
the First Consul ’s ban as Cadoudal himself ; how can 
he help you?” 

In my astonishment that she should think of rely- 
ing upon Polignac, whose life I believed would be for- 
feit if he dared to enter Paris, I had unconsciously 
spoken his name with raised voice. We had heretofore 
been speaking almost in whispers for fear of a possi- 
ble listener. As I uttered his name Pelagie started 
and looked nervously toward the door of the blue salon. 


THE CONSUL’S COMMISSION 


395 


“I beg you to be careful, Monsieur/ ’ she said anx- 
iously. “As you say, his life would be forfeit if any 
one suspected his presence in Paris. I do not know 
that he is here, but I am hourly expecting to hear 
from him. There is no one in the world I would have 
trusted this secret to but you, and I am relying on 
your discretion as well as your honor. ’ ’ 

I bowed my thanks, grateful for her confidence and 
ashamed of the indiscretion that might so easily have 
betrayed her secret. But I had not gained my point. 

“You will let me help in this flight, too, Mademoi- 
selle? It is a great peril you are undertaking, and 
one more sword, whose owner will lightly risk his life 
for you, cannot come amiss.’ ’ 

But she only shook her head and whispered, “It is 
impossible, ’ ’ and at that moment Henriette entered 
the room. 

“Mademoiselle la Comtesse,” she said timidly (I 
fear Pelagie must have been at times something of a 
little tyrant, to make her companion stand in such 
awe of her), “I have stayed away, not five minutes, 
but ten. I come to remind you that the hour has ar- 
rived at which Madame la Duchesse returns.’ ’ 

“Thanks, my good Henriette,” said Pelagie, 
sweetly ; “it is true, and I had forgotten it. ’ ’ 

She turned quickly to me: “You must go at once, 
Monsieur ! It is much better the duchesse should not 
find you here.” 

“And can I not see you again? Shall I never see 
you again?” I asked eagerly, in English. 

“No, no! Do not try— I will send word,” she an- 


396 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

swered, also in English, and then put out her hand. 
“Go, Monsieur,” she said in French, “and farewell !” 

I took her hand and bent low over it. 

“Farewell, Mademoiselle,” I said, for it cut me to 
the quick that she had not said “Au revoir,” as she 
had said it on La Belle Riviere. 

Down in the courtyard, in the act of throwing my 
leg over Fatima’s back, there rode under the arch of 
the entrance the countryman who had overtaken us 
in the morning, leading the magnificent horse he had 
said was for Mademoiselle la Comtesse, and riding an- 
other. It was not strange that he should be bringing 
mademoiselle her hunter, but it struck me as some- 
what strange that the moment he caught sight of me 
a quick scowl should darken his brow and as quickly 
be cleared away : as if it had come unbidden and been 
driven away from a sense of expediency. As I passed 
him on the way out he touched his cap to me politely, 
and the sleeve of his rough jerkin falling away a little 
in the act, I thought I caught a glimpse of a lace wrist- 
ruffle. 

“Perhaps Caesar was not mistaken, after all,” I 
said to myself ; “if he wears lace ruffles at his wrist he 
may well wear a gold belt and poniard at his waist. 
A strange countryman, forsooth!” And a secret un- 
easiness that I could neither explain nor dismiss re- 
turned to me as often as he came into my thoughts. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


‘ ‘ GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART ! ’ ’ 

u I have found out a gift for my fair." 

T HERE was nothing to keep me in Paris. I could 
not see mademoiselle ; she would not let me 
help her in her flight. I was restless and impatient to 
be off. No boat would sail from Le Havre for nearly 
a week. It would not take a week either by horse, 
as Caesar and I would go, or by the river, where my 
baggage was to be floated down in a small yawl 
in the charge of a trusty boatman. But if I stayed 
in Paris I would be eating my heart out; it was bet- 
ter to be on the way and taking the route by slow 
stages. 

So I made the plea to my aunt and uncle that I 
feared some unforeseen delay might cause me to miss 
my ship, and with feverish haste I made all arrange- 
ments for departure that very night. To my aunt my 
impatience seemed only natural. She herself was 
greatly distressed at the news of my father’s illness, 
and would have accompanied me to America if it had 
been possible. 

My first act on reaching home after leaving made- 
moiselle had been to tear off my gorgeous uniform, 
397 


398 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


with such a mingling of loathing and regret as rarely 
comes to a man. If my suspicions of the contents of 
mademoiselle’s note were correct, then I could not 
quickly enough rid myself of every emblem of the 
allegiance I had once owed to the First Consul. And 
yet when I remembered his invariable kindness to me, 
the magnanimity he had shown for what must have 
seemed to him criminal eavesdropping, the tender- 
ness of heart I had seen displayed more than once, the 
wonderful powers of the man, master alike of the 
arts of peace and war, the idolatry in which his sol- 
diers held him and in which I had hitherto shared, my 
heart lamented bitterly that its idol should have been 
so shattered. 

Since we had time to spare and it was now the me- 
ridian of summer, I had decided to use only the cool 
of evening and the early morning hours for travel, as 
much, I think, for the sake of sparing Fatima as 
Caesar and myself. Our first stage was to be to the 
same little inn, twenty miles out, which we had left 
only that morning to come into the city. It was not, 
perhaps, on the most direct route to Le Havre, but a 
large part of the way would lead through the forests 
of Montmorency and Chantilly and would be pleasant 
riding, and the inn was almost the cleanest and most 
comfortable of its kind I had found in France. My 
weeks under Bonaparte bearing messages to every 
little river big enough to build a boat upon had taught 
me the roads well ; all this northern France was like 
an open book to me and I would find no difficulty in 
cutting across from the forest of Chantilly to the 


" GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART!” 


399 


Hanks of the Seine, if I preferred to follow its wind- 
ings to Le Havre. 

So the long shadows of the late afternoon saw us 
riding under the Porte St. Martin ; at sunset we were 
passing the hoary Basilique of St. Denis, tomb of the 
kings ; through the long twilight we skirted the forest 
of Montmorency; and by moonrise we were entering 
the forest of Chantilly. Not more beautiful by early 
dawn and dew had been this ride, than it was through 
lengthening shadows, and violet glow of sunset, and 
silvery light of moon, the peaches ripening on sunny 
walls, and the odors of mint and sweet-smelling herbs 
rising through the gathering damps of evening, the 
birds singing their vesper songs, and in the deep for- 
est glades the lonely nightingale pouring out his soul 
to the moon. 

Yet my heart was heavier. On my long ride from 
Antwerp, with the buoyancy of youth, I had passed 
through all the phases from anguished fear to the al- 
most certitude of hope, and I had entered Paris feel- 
ing sure that I would find my father well again when 
I should reach America. I had entered Paris also joy- 
ous with the thought of seeing mademoiselle once 
more, and with the unconfessed hope that the budget 
I was bearing from the great Bonaparte might be the 
means of bringing me the crowning happiness of my 
life. I was leaving it now with one word ringing in 
my ears as the death-knell to all my hopes— Farewell ! 

The hour was still early and my inn but a little 
way off on the western borders of the forest; I would 
make a little detour and see the chateau and park and 


400 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


still be not too late for a good supper and a comfor- 
table night’s rest. I left the “old road” (which 
crossed the forest directly) at the Carrefour de la 
Table, where twelve roads met in an open circular 
space surrounding a great stone table. From there I 
took one leading straight to the Grille d’Honneur. 
We crossed a little bridge that spanned the moat, and 
looking down into its waters, we heard the splash of 
the ancient carp that filled it. Then through the Grille 
d’Honneur and between two stone dogs at the foot of 
the slope that led up to the ruins of the Grande 
Chateau. There I drew rein and looked over the 
beautiful domain. 

At my right was the ruined chateau ; in front of me 
the chatelet, in perfect preservation, apparently float- 
ing on the bosom of a silvery lake that entirely sur- 
rounded it. Beyond were the famous stables of the 
Great Conde, holding two hundred and sixty horses 
in his lifetime. Beside them was the chapel, and 
everywhere a network of basins and canals gleaming 
white under the flooding moonlight. At my back were 
the gloomy towers of the Chateau d’Enghien, built to 
house the guests of the Condes who overflowed the 
Grande Chateau and the chatelet; and beyond was a 
mass of rich foliage belonging to the Park of Sylvie. 

As I gazed a thousand thoughts crowded into my 
mind. This was the home of mademoiselle’s ancestors; 
it should now be the home of the Due d’Enghien ; per- 
haps when mademoiselle came into her own it would 
be hers. No doubt in these very parks she had played 
in infancy. Generations of grandeur, of princely 


“GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART!” 


401 


splendor, were behind her. How had I dared to 
dream of her ! How had I dared to think she would 
stoop to my lowly rank ! 

I gave Fatima’s bridle to Cassar and told him to 
wait for me while I walked down the green slope into 
the Park of Sylvie. Enchanting vistas opened before 
me, the moonlight filtering through arched canopies of 
foliage just enough to show me the way. Old tales of 
the Duchesse ‘ ‘ Sylvie 9 9 and the poet-lover, condemned 
to death, whom she had hidden in this park and its 
little chateau floated through my mind strangely min- 
gled with dreams of a later daughter of Montmorency. 

And then suddenly I came upon something that for 
a moment I almost believed to be a continuation of my 
dreams. I had turned to my right and a new vista 
had opened before me, closed by the little “ Chateau 
of Sylvie.” On the wide lawn before it, half hidden 
by the shadow of the chateau, half in the broad moon- 
light, was a strange group : a carriage and what 
seemed to me many horses and many men. I thought 
for a moment I had landed upon a nest of bandits 
such as might easily infest a forest like this, and it 
would behoove me to steal silently back to the horses 
and make good my escape ; but I caught a glimpse of 
petticoats: they were not bandits; they must be Gip- 
sies. 

Then as I gazed there stepped out into the full 
moonlight a man leading a powerful black horse with 
one white stocking and a white star in his forehead. I 
heard the man call some brief order to some one in the 
shadow, and there was a slight lisp in his voice. In 
26 


402 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


a moment I understood it all, although the man was 
no longer wearing a countryman’s coat, but the livery 
of a gentleman’s servant. It was Pelagie and her 
party fleeing to Baden and the Due d’Enghien! 

I knew not whether I would be a welcome guest or 
an intruder, but I knew I was not going to miss this 
opportunity of seeing Pelagie once more. I stepped 
out boldly from under the shadows of the trees into 
the moonlight, and in so doing came near losing my 
life. There was the click of a lock and the flash of a 
gun-barrel in the countryman’s hands. 

“ Don’t shoot, Monsieur,” I cried; “ it is a friend.” 

There was a short, sharp cry, half suppressed, and 
Pelagie came running out of the shadow, both hands 
extended and her face glowing in the moonlight. 

‘ ‘ Is it you, Monsieur ? ’ ’ she cried. ‘ 4 How came you 
here ? ’ ’ 

I suppose I answered her in some fashion. I know 
I took her hands in mine and looked • down into her 
beautiful eyes, but I know not what I said. She was 
wearing the cap and apron and simple gown of a 
lady ’s waiting-maid, and as she saw me look curiously 
at it she said, with the shrug of her pretty little shoul- 
ders that I had learned to know so well in St. Louis : 

“It is a fright, is it not, Monsieur? But I am no 
longer the Comtesse de Baloit: I am Susanne, the 
maid of Madame du Bois, with whom I am traveling.” 

Her voice had the happy ring of a child’s, as if she 
were glad to be free, even if only for a time, from the 
cares of rank and position; or, perhaps more truly, 
glad to be away from the surveillance of the duchesse, 


“GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART ! v 


403 


happy that she need no longer fear the chevalier and 
the First Consul. I longed to think that a part of the 
gladness was in seeing me once more so unexpectedly ; 
but I knew this was only my foolish vanity, and I 
steadied my brain by saying over to myself, ‘ ‘ She is a 
princess of Conde in her ancestral home ; you are only 
the son of a plain American gentleman/ ’ So I made 
her such a speech as I would have made to a princess 
of Conde. 

“If Mademoiselle were not the Comtesse de Baloit 
I could wish she were always Susanne the maid of 
Madame du Bois. ’T is a bewitching costume / 9 

It was, and she knew it, as I could see by her dan- 
cing eyes and the smile (that she vainly tried to sup- 
press) playing hide-and-seek with the roses in her 
cheek as I spoke. Being a man, I could not name each 
article of her costume ; but what I saw was a vision of 
little ringlets escaping from under a coquettish cap, 
dainty ankles that the short blue skirt did not pretend 
to hide, a snowy apron that almost covered the blue 
skirt, and a handkerchief demurely crossed over the 
beautiful shoulders. 

She turned quickly, as if to escape my gaze, and 
called to the countryman : “Monsieur le Prince, this is 
the friend of whom I have spoken ; I want him to meet 
the Prince de Polignac.” 

The prince came forward at once ; and as we 
grasped each other’s hands and looked into each 
other’s eyes, I think he knew that he need no longer 
regard me with suspicion, and I knew that here was a 
man to whom I could trust even Pelagie. 


404 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


We laughed a little over our first meeting, and I 
told him how Caesar had detected his weapon; and 
then out of the shadows came other figures : Henriette, 
to whom, as her mistress, Madame du Bois, Pelagie 
gaily presented me; a man in the costume of a well- 
to-do bourgeois, whom they called Monsieur du Bois, 
but who, Pelagie whispered to me, was the prince’s 
trusted body-servant; and Clotilde, whom I had not 
seen since I had seen her on La Belle Riviere, and who 
wept at the sight of me, a tribute to the memory of 
other days. Last of all there came out of the shadows 
my burly host of last night’s inn. He had brought 
over to the little chateau a relay of fresh horses and a 
hamper of supper. All arrangements had been made 
at his inn the night before by the Prince de Polignac 
in the guise of a countryman ; for careless Boniface as 
my host had seemed to be, he was devotedly attached 
to his old masters, the Bourbon princes, and could be 
trusted to the death. 

It amazed me greatly that they should have accom- 
plished this journey in a shorter time than I, and still 
more that they should have succeeded in getting safely 
out of Paris with so large a party, and I so expressed 
myself to the prince. 

“It had been all carefully planned, Monsieur,” he 
told me. “My man, ‘Monsieur du Bois,’ had a trav- 
eling-carriage waiting at a little house near the Porte 
St. Denis, where an old servitor of the family lives. 
He had passports made out for Madame and Monsieur 
du Bois from New Orleans, traveling with their negro 
servant Clotilde, and with a maid Susanne, and a man 


“ GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART ! ” 


405 


Frangois. Mademoiselle la Comtesse arranged to try 
her hunter at three o’clock in the Bois, accompanied 
by her companion, Henriette (who in these few weeks 
has become devotedly attached to the comtesse), and 
by the countryman who had brought her the horse and 
understood him more thoroughly than a groom from 
the stables of the duchesse would have done. At the 
same hour the negro maid of the comtesse strolled out 
into a quiet street at the rear of the hotel, where she 
was met by my man and conducted to the little house 
near the Porte St. Denis. At a little before four we 
had all gathered there; by half-past four the trans- 
formation had been made and we were leaving the 
house, Madame du Bois and her two maids in the car- 
riage, Monsieur du Bois on the comtesse ’s hunter, I 
on my own horse and leading the one Henriette had 
ridden. We had arranged to meet Pierre here with 
fresh horses and provisions, and spend half an hour 
in changing horses, resting, and supper. Your unex- 
pected appearance, Monsieur, has alarmed me. I had 
thought the Park of Sylvie sufficiently secluded to 
insure us secrecy, but if you have found it, others may 
whom we would be less glad to see, and I think I will 
form my little company into marching order at once. 
The comtesse is taking it all as a grand adventure; 
her spirits have risen with every step away from 
Paris : that is the princely blood of Conde that loves 
deeds of daring, and I would not say a word to 
dampen her ardor; but we know, Monsieur, it is a 
serious matter, and so, though our half-hour is not 
quite up, I think I will order the advance.” 


406 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“You are quite right, Monsieur le Prince/ ’ I re- 
plied. “My man is waiting for me with our horses in 
the Court d’Honneur; will you permit me to ride a 
little way with you?” 

The prince hesitated a moment, and then in his 
courtliest manner he replied to my request : 

“I am sure Monsieur will not misunderstand me 
when I say nothing could give us greater pleasure if 
it seemed safe. But Monsieur’s size and— appear- 
ance, ’ 9 with a bow and a smile flattering no doubt, but 
discouraging, “have made him well known in France. 
Moreover, Monsieur ’s friendship for the comtesse 
(which does him honor) is known also, and should a 
pursuing party make inquiries along the road, and 
should our party be described with you in attendance, 
I fear they will be able to identify us at once.” 

“I understand, Monsieur le Prince,” I answered, 
much crestfallen. And then into my slow brain there 
popped another question. 

“But will not the negro maid Clotilde betray you 
also?” 

“Monsieur is very astute,” answered the prince. 
“He has touched upon our weak point, and I am going 
to prove my friendly regard for Monsieur by asking 
of him a great service. We could not leave the ne- 
gress behind in Paris : the comtesse would not stir one 
step without her, fearing that she would be very un- 
happy, if not come to want and suffering in a strange 
city. All the way from Paris I have been revolving 
plans in my mind as to how best to separate her from 
our party. I had thought of letting Pierre take charge 



“Pelagie came running out of the shadow, 
both hands extended ” 






“GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART!” 


407 


of her, but that would not do ; for should she be dis- 
covered, that would make Pierre ‘ suspect,’ and he 
would be thrown into prison for aiding and abetting 
the flight of the comtesse, and it would be a clue to 
trace us. When I saw you, Monsieur, I said, 4 There 
is a way out of our dilemma. If Monsieur will take 
Clotilde back with him to America, we are safe/ ” 

Joy filled my heart that I was at last to be allowed 
to do something for the comtesse. 

“Gladly, Monsieur !” I exclaimed; “and it can be 
very easily arranged. We will strike across country 
to Pontoise and the forest of St. Germain, and head 
off my boatman. He was to tie up for the night at a 
little village near Marly-le-Roi. I will find him there 
and put Clotilde in his wife’s care. His wife accom- 
panies him, for the voyage and to cook his meals.” 

The prince’s gratitude seemed to me incommensu- 
rate with so small a service, and so I told him. And 
then another difficulty suggested itself to me. 

“Monsieur le Prince,” I said, “I recognized you 
from the hunter of Mademoiselle la Comtesse ; will not 
perhaps others also?” 

“I have thought of this, Monsieur,” he said; “but 
it seemed even more difficult to arrange than the other. 
It is necessary that the comtesse should have a swift 
and powerful horse, for if we are pursued, she and 
I will take to our horses and leave the others to shift 
for themselves. I had thought of asking Pierre to try 
to find another as good as this (though for speed and 
endurance I do not believe he has his equal in Prance), 
hut even then I should not know what to do with this 


408 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS , 


one. I could not give him to Pierre : that again would 
bring him under suspicion. I should have to shoot 
and bury him. However, it is too late now to make 
the change ; we will even have to take the risk. ’ 7 

“Monsieur,” I said slowly, for willingly as I would 
make any sacrifice for mademoiselle, even to my life, 
I could not lightly do that which I was about to do— 
“Monsieur, I have a horse who for speed and endur- 
ance has hardly her equal in the whole world. She 
knows Mademoiselle la Comtesse well and will do her 
bidding as she does mine. I will change horses with 
you. The comtesse shall have my chestnut mare and 
I will take her black beauty.” 

The prince did not know that this was a far greater 
sacrifice on my part than taking charge of Clotilde 
had been, yet he knew a man loves his own mare well, 
and in so far he appreciated the service and thanked 
me for it. 

But the matter of separating Clotilde from her mis- 
tress had to be broached to mademoiselle, and the 
prince begged me to undertake the difficult task. All 
the time while the prince and I had been holding our 
conversation together aside from the others, she had 
been exploring the purlieus of the little chateau with 
frequent exclamations of delight, not one of which 
fell unheeded on my ears, although I was deep in con- 
sultation. Now she came running up to me joyously. 

“Monsieur, Monsieur,” she exclaimed, “I have 
found the little arbor where I used to take my dolls 
and play at housekeeping ! Ah, how well I remember 
it! How often I have thought of it! And how little 


“ GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART ! ” 


409 


I ever expected to see it again ! ’ ’ and her eyes were as 
bright and as soft as the waters of the little lake 
stretching from our feet to the Grille d’Honneur and 
shining in the misty moonlight. I knew how quickly 
those eyes could change from dewy softness to light- 
ning flashes, and it is not to be wondered at that I 
plunged into my subject with nervous haste. 

‘ 4 Mademoiselle/ ’ I said (and I thought the prince 
liked not the lack of formality in my address), 4 ‘the 
Prince de Polignac has assigned to me an unpleasant 
duty; it is to tell you that we find it necessary for 
your safety to take away Clotilde . 9 9 

Perhaps I was too abrupt; at any rate, much as I 
had expected a tempest I was not prepared for the tor- 
nado that ensued. 

“Take away my Clotilde ! ’ ^ she interrupted. 
“Never! never! never \" And then there followed 
a torrent of tears mingled with reproaches as she 
threw herself upon Clotilde ’s breast— the breast she 
had wept upon since she was a babe of six. But Clo- 
tilde J s cries were stormier than her mistress’s: she lit- 
erally lifted up her voice and wept. The prince was 
the picture of distress and dismay: there was danger 
that the sound of weeping might penetrate to un- 
friendly ears. Mademoiselle in tears was ever more 
formidable to me than an army with banners, but 
there was no help for it; I took my courage in my 
hand. 

“Mademoiselle la Comtesse,” I said sternly, “you 
are causing the Prince de Polignac great distress. 
You are in danger any moment of betraying his re- 


410 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


treat to an enemy, and if he is captured, his life is for- 
feit, as you know. ’ ’ 

I spoke thus to arouse her from a contemplation of 
her own woes to his danger, for well I knew her gen- 
erous soul would respond at once to such a plea, and 
I was not mistaken. Her sobs ceased instantly and 
she stilled Clotilde with a word ; then she turned and 
looked at me quietly while I went on with what I had 
to say : 

“It is to anticipate the danger of such discovery 
that we remove Clotilde, who, being almost the only 
negress in France, would betray your identity at once. 
I will take her with me to America, and from Phila- 
delphia I will send her under safe escort to Dr. Sau- 
grain in St. Louis, and when you are safely established 
in your own home you can send for her again.’ ’ 

I think the thought of seeing St. Louis once more 
half consoled Clotilde for the parting, though she was 
a faithful creature and loved her mistress, and would 
have followed her to the ends of the earth. I know it 
helped to console Pelagie, for it was the thought of 
leaving Clotilde alone and unprotected in a foreign 
country that disturbed her most. 

But all this had taken much time, and the half-hour 
the prince had allowed for rest was more than up. 
They had had their supper, the carriage-horses had 
been changed, the saddle-horses had been fed and 
watered, and the prince was in feverish haste to be 
off. I ran swiftly to the Couit d’Honneur, where I 
had left Caesar, and found him wondering anxiously 
what had kept me so long. He had fed and watered 


“GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART!” 


411 


both horses and was now letting them crop a little of 
the luxuriant grass at their feet. I did not stop for 
explanations, but bidding him follow me with his 
horse, I led Fatima by a shorter and more direct route 
straight from the Grille d’Honneur to the little cha- 
teau. I found the carriage with “Monsieur and 
Madame du Bois”; the coachman and outriders had 
already started. Pierre had set out a luncheon on the 
little stone table for Caesar and me (for since we were 
not to go to his inn there was no prospect for supper 
for us) , and was getting the two carriage-horses ready 
to take them back with him. Clotilde was silently 
weeping and Pelagie was trying to comfort her. I 
led Fatima straight to Pelagie. 

“ Mademoiselle/ ’ I said, “the Prince de Polignac 
permits me to give you a farewell present. Will you 
take Fatima and keep her for me ? She will bear you 
to your destination, I believe, more safely and more 
surely than any horse in the world. ” 

“Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur !” she said, and then 
could say nothing more, her little chin quivering pite- 
ously. I could not bear to see it. I had motioned to 
Caesar to put on Fatima the side-saddle lying on the 
grass, and now I said, 

“Let me put you on her back,” and bent to lift 
her; but she drew back. 

“Oh, no, no, Monsieur!” she cried. “I know why 
you do it, and I know what a sacrifice it is to you. I 
cannot let you give up Fatima ! ’ ’ 

“Then you are depriving me of a great happiness,” 
I softly answered. * ‘ I had hoped you would take her 


412 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and keep her and love her. It would be a great com- 
fort to me in distant America to think of you as being 
kind to her sometimes for the sake of old St. Louis 
memories. ’ * 

I looked steadily into her eyes. 

“ Mademoiselle, may I put you on her back?” 

She bowed her head, and I lifted her to her seat, put 
her foot in the stirrup and the bridle in her hand. 
Then I threw my arm over Fatima’s neck. 

4 ‘Good-by, Sweetheart,” I whispered, “take good 
care of your mistress,” and kissed her on the white 
star on her forehead. Still with my arm over her neck 
I reached up my hand to mademoiselle. 

She put her hand in mine, and I kissed it as I had 
kissed it when she chose me her king ; then I lifted my 
eyes and looked straight into hers. 

“Good-by, Mademoiselle, and au revoir,” I said, 
and dropped her hand. 

She could not answer for the same piteous quiver- 
ing of the chin, but her lips formed “ Au revoir” ; and 
then she turned Fatima and rode slowly under the 
leafy arch that led through a long tunnel of foliage, 
due east. 

“Monsieur,” said the prince, and I started; for a 
moment I had forgotten his existence. 

He had withdrawn courteously while I was making 
my adieus with mademoiselle, busying himself with 
little preparations for departure. Now he had 
mounted and drawn his horse to my side. 

“Monsieur, you have taught me to honor and ad- 
mire all American gentlemen. If there is any service 


“ GOOD-BY, SWEETHEART!” 


413 


I can ever do you, I hope you will give me the oppor- 
tunity of showing you how much I appreciate the 
great service you have done us this night. ’ ’ 

“ Monsieur le Prince/ ’ I answered quickly, too 
eager with my own thoughts to thank him for his kind 
words, 4 ‘there is one kindness you can show me that 
will more than repay me for anything I have ever 
done or ever could do. Write me of mademoiselle’s 
safe arrival when you reach Baden. I will give you 
my address, ’ ’ and I tore a leaf from my memorandum- 
book, wrote my address upon it, and thrust it into his 
hand. 

“ It is a small commission, Monsieur , 9 9 he answered, 
“but I will be most happy to execute it.” 

He grasped my hand, said “Au revoir,” and can- 
tered quickly away after mademoiselle. 

I watched them riding side by side under the leafy 
dome until their figures were lost in the darkness, 
mademoiselle still with bent head, and he with his face 
turned courteously away as if not to seem to see 
should she be softly crying. And if there was for a 
moment in my heart a jealous envy that he should 
ride by mademoiselle’s side and I be left behind, I put 
it quickly away, for I knew him to be a noble and cour- 
teous gentleman, and one to whose honor I could trust 
the dearest thing in life. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


EXIT LE CHEVALIER 


* € The King of France with forty thousand men, 

Went up a hill, and so came down agen.” 

C LOTILDE, Caesar, and I had ridden late into the 
night before we had reached the little village on 
the Seine where my boatman, Gustave, was to tie up. 
But it was moonlight and we rode through a beautiful 
country dotted with royal chateaus,— the birthplaces 
of illustrious kings,— and I had my thoughts, and Clo- 
tilde and Caesar had each other: for Caesar was the 
hist of her kind Clotilde had seen since coming to 
France, and much as she might enjoy the attentions 
of footmen in gorgeous liveries, after all they were 
only ‘ ‘ white trash , 9 ’ and she loved best her own color. 
Clotilde was rapidly becoming consoled; and though 
she only spoke creole French, and Csesar only Eng- 
lish, save for the few words he had picked up since 
coming to Paris, they seemed to make themselves very 
well understood. 

So the ride had not been so tedious as it might have 
been. And when we had found Gustave ’s boat tied to 
the bank and had routed up him and his wife, and de- 
livered Clotilde into their care (and their admiration 
414 


EXIT LE CHEVALIER 


415 


and awe of the black lady was wonderful to see), and 
Caesar and I had hunted up a fairly comfortable inn 
and had two or three hours of sleep, we were all quite 
ready to start on again. 

Feeling that Clotilde was a sacred trust, I was anx- 
ious both for her safety and for her welfare, and thus 
it was that the early morning found me following the 
windings of the Seine by a little bridle-path on its 
banks, hardly twenty feet from Gustave’s boat drop- 
ping down with the tide. Gustave’s wife was in the 
forward part of the boat, preparing breakfast for the 
three, and the savory odor of her bacon and coffee was 
borne by the breeze straight to my nostrils on the high 
bank above her. Gustave himself was in the stern of 
the boat, lazily managing the steering-oar and wait- 
ing for his breakfast, and incidentally grinning from 
ear to ear at Caesar, riding a pace behind me and cast- 
ing longing glances at the thatched roof of the little 
boat ’s cabin, whence issued in rich negro tones the crfe- 
ole love-song Yorke had sung to Clotilde on the Ohio 
boat: 

44 Every springtime 
All the lovers 
Change their sweethearts ; 

Let change who will, 

I keep mine.” 

I had straitly charged Clotilde that she must keep 
herself closely concealed within the cabin, but I had 
said nothing to her about also keeping quiet. Now I 
was idly thinking that perhaps I had better give her 
instructions upon that point also, when down the 


416 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


stony road some three feet higher than the bridle- 
path, and separated from it by a bank of turf, came 
the thunder of hoofs. I glanced up quickly. A little 
party of horsemen, five or six in number, were dashing 
down the road toward us, and in the lead was the 
Chevalier Le Moyne ! At sight of us they drew rein, 
and the chevalier, looking down on me (for the first 
time in his life), brought his hat to his saddle-bow 
with a flourish. 

“Good morning, Monsieur. I hear you are off for 
America. ’ ’ 

“Good morning,” I answered coolly, merely touch- 
ing my own hat. “You have heard correctly”; and 
I wished with all my heart that I had had time to tell 
Clotilde to keep still, for up from the boat below, 
louder and clearer than ever, it seemed to me, came 
the refrain of her foolish song : 

u Tous les printemps, 

Tous les amants 
Changent de mattresses ; 

Qu’ils changent qui voudront, 

Pour moi, je garde la mienne.” 

The chevalier was listening pointedly. 

“An old song, Monsieur, that I have often heard in 
St. Louis. And the voice, too, I think is familiar. It 
is the black maid of the Comtesse de Baloit, is it not ? 
Perhaps her mistress is with her ; if so, our quest is at 
an end.” 

“What do you mean, Monsieur le Chevalier!” I ex- 
claimed, affecting virtuous indignation, and feeling 
a little of it, too, for I liked not the chevalier’s manner. 


EXIT LE CHEVALIER 


417 


“You have heard, I suppose,” he answered, with a 
light sneer, “that the comtesse has disappeared from 
Paris. At almost the same moment it was announced 
that monsieur had started for America, and some of 
the comtesse ’s friends thought it not impossible that 
they had gone together. Prom the warbling of that 
nightingale yonder Sludge they were not far wrong.” 

Not until this moment had it occurred to me that 
any one would connect the flight of the comtesse with 
my departure, and I hardly knew whether I was more 
ragingly angry at the thought or secretly glad. There 
was no question as to my state of mind toward the 
chevalier. That he should speak in such a light and 
sneering tone of any lady, but most of all that he 
should so speak of the loveliest lady on earth, was not 
to be borne. Yet I was glad, for some reasons, that 
such a mistaken surmise had arisen: it would throw 
pursuit off the track until Pelagie was well on her 
way to the German frontier, and the truth would come 
out later and my lady not suffer in her reputation 
(which indeed I could not have endured). 

So instead of giving free vent to the anger that 
raged in my heart, as I longed to do, I thought it wise 
to dally with the chevalier and keep him as long as 
possible on the wrong scent, for every moment of de- 
lay to the chevalier was setting mademoiselle farther 
on her way. 

“Your news, Monsieur,” I said, “is most astonish- 
ing, but your insinuations also most insulting to a 
lady whose honor and reputation shall ever be my 
dearest care. ’ ’ 

27 


418 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Now the chevalier was five to one (for I could not 
count upon Caesar for fighting, as I might have 
counted upon Yorke). I do not say that that fact 
made the chevalier more bold or less careful in his 
manner, but I certainly think that had we been man 
to mam he would not have answered as he did. 

‘ 4 Your virtuous indignation is pretty to see, Mon- 
sieur, ’ ’ he answered ; ‘ ‘ but I have the warrant of the 
republic to search whatever domains I may suspect of 
harboring the comtesse, and I think I will use my 
rights on yonder boat, where I see the face of her maid 
at the window. ’ * 

I glanced quickly at the boat. Sure enough, in the 
little square of glass that formed the window of the 
cabin was framed Clotilde ’s black face. And her nose 
(already broad enough) being flattened against the 
glass, and her eyes rolling wildly with curiosity and 
fear as she gazed at the party of armed horsemen on 
the bank, she made a ludicrous picture indeed. I 
would have liked to laugh heartily but that it was my 
role to display chagrin and anxiety rather than a care- 
less levity. 

“ Monsieur,” I said seriously, “you are quite right: 
that is Clotilde, the maid of Mademoiselle la Comtesse. 
I was requested last evening to take her back to Amer- 
ica and return her to her friends in St. Louis. It 
will always be my greatest pleasure to render the com- 
tesse any service within my power, and I did not 
stop to question why she wished to get rid of her 
maid.” 

“Your explanation is most plausible, Monsieur,”— 


EXIT LE CHEVALIER 


419 


the chevalier’s tone was intentionally insulting, and, 
but that I had mademoiselle’s interests more at heart 
than my own sensitive self-esteem, would have been 
hard to brook,— “but since I hold a warrant of search, 
if Monsieur permits, I will do myself the honor of 
visiting his boat.” 

Now I cared not at all whether the chevalier visited 
the boat or not, knowing well he would not find the 
comtesse there. My only anxiety was to temporize as 
long as possible and keep him still suspicious of my 
complicity with mademoiselle’s flight, that she might 
profit by his delay in discovering the true scent. So 
I answered sternly : 

“Monsieur, that boat is for the time being United 
States territory. You step upon its planks without 
my consent at your peril. I will at once report the 
matter to our minister at Paris, Mr. Livingston, and if 
a war between the United States and France is the re- 
sult, you will have to give an account to the First Con- 
sul of your acts which caused that war. ’ ’ 

I was not enough of a diplomat to know whether I 
was speaking within my rights or not, but I trusted 
to the chevalier being no better informed than I, and 
at the best I was but speaking against time. The 
effect of my speech was all that I could have desired. 
The chevalier looked immediately crestfallen, and 
turned to consult with his comrades. For full five 
minutes (I could have wished it ten times five) they 
carried on a conference that at times appeared to be 
heated, though always low-toned. Then the chevalier 
turned to me again, and his manner was no longer in- 


420 THE ROSE OF OLD ST, LOUIS 

suiting, but of such respect as is due one gentleman 
from another. 

‘ ‘ Monsieur, ’ ’ he said, “perhaps I have no right to 
demand that I be allowed to search a boat belonging 
to an American gentleman, but if Monsieur will per- 
mit me to do so he will oblige me greatly, and it will 
be the means of clearing him at once of suspicions that 
may have unjustly accrued to him.” 

There was no wisdom in delaying longer. 

“Since Monsieur puts it in that way,” I said, “I 
can have no object in refusing his request. I shall 
have to ask you, however, that you wait a few minutes 
until I step aboard and warn Gustave and his wife of 
the purpose of your visit, lest they be unnecessarily 
alarmed.” 

The chevalier showed that he liked not the last part 
of my speech. He no doubt thought that my purpose 
in going aboard first was to find a secure hiding-place 
for the comtesse. However, he had no alternative but 
to acquiesce. My real purpose was to warn Gustave 
and his wife that on no account were they to betray 
at what hour or where Clotilde had come aboard. She 
was to have come aboard at Paris at four o’clock the 
day before; and they, having no inkling of the true 
state of the case, but suspecting, I believe, some in- 
trigue between the “dark lady” and her lovers, sym- 
pathetically promised implicit obedience. With Clo- 
tilde I was even more strenuous. Her story must 
agree with Gustave’s: she had boarded the boat in 
Paris at four of the afternoon ; but especially was she 
to know nothing of her mistress’s plans— why or 


EXIT LE CHEVALIER 


421 


where she had gone. With her I appealed to her love 
for her mistress, and warned her that the comtesse’s 
liberty, possibly her life, might depend upon her dis- 
cretion. With the others a promise of liberal rewards 
if they proved true, and dire threats should they be- 
tray me, I believed secured their fidelity. 

I had had Gustave tie the boat to the bank before 
boarding it myself; I now invited the chevalier and 
his friends to come aboard. Leaving two of their 
comrades to hold their horses, the three others climbed 
down the bank and hastened to comply with my invi- 
tation. As they did so I saw Caesar dismount, tie his 
own horse and mine securely to two saplings, and 
clamber up the bank beside the horsemen.- I thought 
his motive was probably to take advantage of this op- 
portunity to stretch his legs, and perhaps also to in- 
dulge his curiosity with a nearer view of the French 
gentlemen, and I saw no reason to interfere— es- 
pecially as the two gentlemen, young blades whom I 
knew by sight, not only offered no objections, but be- 
gan at once to amuse themselves with his clownish 
manners and outlandish speech. 

Of course the chevalier’s quest was futile, as also 
was his examination of his three witnesses. They all 
stuck to their text,— the embarkation of Clotilde at 
four o’clock on the afternoon previous in Paris,— and 
Clotilde was as stupid as heart could desire, profess- 
ing absolute ignorance of her mistress’s plans, and 
knowing only that she herself was being sent home to 
America because she was homesick; and with a ne- 
gress’s love of gratuitous insult* when she thinks 


422 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


she is safe in offering it, she added in her creole dia- 
lect : 

“De Lord knows, I ’s sick o’ white trash anyhow. 
I ’s mighty glad to be gittin’ back to a country ob 
ladies and gen’lemen.” 

The chevalier’s two companions laughed, but the 
chevalier looked perplexed. 

“Monsieur,” he said, with an air of exaggerated 
deference, “I have discovered nothing on your boat, 
either by search or by examination of the witnesses, 
that can implicate you in any way with the flight of 
the Comtesse de Baloit. But will you permit me to 
ask you one important question ? How does it happen 
that you are not riding Fatima, and that you are rid- 
ing the horse which answers exactly to the description 
of the one the comtesse was riding when she disap- 
peared?” and the chevalier could not quite keep the 
tone of triumph out of his voice as he propounded his 
question. I had been expecting it, and I was prepared 
for it. I should have been much disappointed if he 
had not asked it. 

“Monsieur,” I answered, “Fatima met with a se- 
rious accident just after leaving Paris. I was obliged 
to leave her in the hands of a veterinary surgeon on 
the outskirts of St. Denis, who has also a small farm 
connected with his establishment for the care of sick 
horses. He promised me to take the best of care of 
her and to return her to me in America as soon as she 
was sufficiently recovered. I bought this horse from 
a dealer to whom the surgeon directed me. I cannot 
say whether it resembles the horse on which the Com- 


EXIT LE CHEVALIER 


423 


tesse de Baloit left Paris; I did not see the comtesse 
when she left Paris.’ ’ 

Which was the only truth in my statement; but I 
did not for a moment consider that I had told a lie, 
but only that I had employed a ruse, perfectly per- 
missible in war, to throw the enemy off the track. He 
snatched at the bait. 

“Will Monsieur give me the address of that horse- 
dealer?” 

“With pleasure, as nearly as I am able,” and there- 
upon I described minutely a place in St. Denis that 
never existed. But St. Denis was only four miles this 
side of Paris, and should the chevalier go all the way 
back to find out from the mythical horse-dealer where 
he had procured my horse, much valuable time would 
be lost and mademoiselle would, I hoped, be beyond 
all risk of being overtaken. 

By one little artifice and another we had already 
managed to delay them for a good three quarters of 
an hour, and now, by an apparently happy accident, 
as long a delay again was promised. A great noise of 
shouting and trampling of horses’ hoofs arose on the 
bank above us. 

We looked up and saw the five horses plunging 
frantically, with the two Frenchmen uttering excited 
cries as they tried to hold them, and Caesar doing 
his share in trying to hold the horses and more than 
his share in making a noise. As we looked, one of the 
horses broke away and started up the road toward 
Paris. The two Frenchmen dashed wildly in pur- 
suit, each man leading a horse with him, and Caesar 


424 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


running on behind gesticulating madly, and bellowing 
at the top of his lungs. 

I had taken advantage of the excitement of the fra- 
cas to slip from the post the rope that held us to the 
bank. We glided gently away down the river, with 
no one (unless it might have been Gustave, but he said 
nothing) noticing that we were moving until we were 
many yards below our mooring-place. The anger of 
the chevalier and his friends when they discovered it 
knew no bounds. Gustave was full of apologies for 
his carelessness, as he called it ; I was dignified. 

“Gustave,” I said severely, “make a mooring as 
quickly as possible, that Monsieur le Chevalier and his 
friends may rejoin their horses.” 

Gustave made all haste apparently, but without 
doubt he fumbled, and w r e were some two or three 
hundred yards farther down the river before we were 
finally tied to the bank. 

“Good-by, Messieurs,” I said politely as the three 
hastened to leap ashore. “I trust you will have no 
difficulty in recovering your horses . 9 9 

They stayed not upon the order of their going, as 
Mr. Shakspere says, but scrambled up the bank and 
on to the hot and stony road, and the sun, now well 
up in the sky, beating strongly on their backs, they 
started at a round pace toward Paris, their horses 
by this time out of sight around a distant bend in the 
road. 

Caesar had given up the pursuit and returned to 
where he had tied our horses. I signaled to him to 


EXIT LE CHEVALIER 


425 


bring them down the river, and mounting his and 
leading mine, he was soon at our mooring-place. 

Riding dowm the soft turf of the shady bridle-path 
a few minutes later, I heard Csesar chuckling behind 
me. I turned in my saddle : 

< ‘ What is it, Caesar ? ’ ’ 

‘ 4 1 done it, Marsa ! ’ ’ 

“Did what, Caesar ?” 

1 ‘ Done mek dat hoss run away. I put a burr un ’er 
his girth. Den when he plunged I cotched de bridle 
and let him loose. He, he, he ! Hi, hi, hi !” and Caesar 
rolled in his saddle in convulsions of mirth, while the 
shore echoed to his guffaws. 

I looked at him in astonishment for a moment. 
Then he had planned it all : tying the two horses, 
clambering up to the road, making himself the jest of 
the two Frenchmen, and all the time the burr con- 
cealed in his hand, no doubt, waiting his chance. 

“ Caesar, you are a general !” I said. “Yorke could 
not have done better.’ ’ And then, his mirth being 
contagious, I threw back my head and laughed as long 
and as loud as he. 

I turned in my saddle once more and looked up the 
road. Through the hot sun plodded the three figures : 
the chevalier with bent head and, I doubted not, with 
gnashing teeth. I waved my hand toward him and 
called, though he could neither see nor hear : 

“ Good-by, Chevalier Le Moyne; this cancels a few 
debts!” 

I have never seen him since. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


u And many an eye has danced to see 
That banner in the sky.” 

I T was in the early days of March, some eight 
months later, that the big barge in which I had 
come down the Ohio, and thus far on the Mississippi, 
put me ashore at New Madrid with my saddle-bags 
and my horse Bourbon Prince ; for so I had promptly 
named the black beauty for whom I had exchanged 
my chestnut mare. He could never quite take the 
place of Fatima in my affections, but I had grown 
very fond of him: partly for his virtues, for he was 
a thoroughbred of famous lineage, and partly, I have 
no doubt, because he had once belonged to mademoi- 
selle. 

Of mademoiselle I had not heard for many months. 
I had arrived at home in the late summer, to find my 
father a physical and almost a mental wreck from 
the stroke of paralysis that had laid him low nearly 
three months before. Yet I had never loved my 
strong, stern father in the prime of manhood, man- 
aging great business enterprises, occupying places of 
honor and responsibility in the State, as I loved this 
426 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


427 


feeble and broken old man with the face and the 
manner of a little child. As the weeks went on and 
he gradually grew able to move about, it was my 
pride and my joy to walk slowly down Chestnut 
Street, my father leaning heavily on my arm, and 
looking up into my face to comment with childish de- 
light upon whatever pleased him in the streets. 

I had had to assume, to the best of my ability, his 
heavy business responsibilities, and the charge of his 
great properties, and but that my mother was herself 
a fine business woman and thoroughly informed on 
my father’s affairs I might have made shipwreck of 
it all. It was not the life I had chosen for myself, 
but it lay so directly in the path of duty there was no 
escaping it, and it kept every moment so fully occu- 
pied there was no time left for brooding over private 
troubles. 

I had received a letter from the Prince de Poli- 
gnac about two weeks after my return home, telling 
me of the safe arrival in Baden of the Comtesse de 
Baloit. It was a very courteous letter, thanking me 
once more for the great services I had rendered them 
on that eventful night in the Chantilly parks, and 
inclosing a pleasant message of acknowledgment from 
the Due d’Enghien for the kindness shown his cousin 
the countess. Mademoiselle had added a line in her 
own writing: 

“ Fatima is well, and I love her for the sake of dear 
old St. Louis. 


Pelagie. 9 * 


428 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

To most people that might seem a very common- 
place little message ; to me those sixteen words were 
the most wonderful ever written. I twisted and 
turned them until each one became a volume of ten- 
der sentiments, and the little signature “Pelagie” 
almost too sacred to he looked at, and only to be kissed, 
shut up in my own room in the dark, or with none but 
the moon to see. 

I had replied to the prince’s letter immediately, 
sending a courteous message to the duke and a special 
one to Pelagie about Clotilde, whom I had sent un- 
der safe escort to St. Louis. But although I had 
intimated to the prince that it would give me very 
great pleasure to hear occasionally of the welfare 
of the countess, I never heard from any of them 
again. 

This, of course, was an especial grief to me on Pe- 
lagie ’s account, but also it touched me a little that 
the prince should so soon have forgotten me and what 
he was pleased to term my “great services” to him, 
for I had been strongly attracted to him by his noble 
bearing and chivalrous protection of mademoiselle. 
Often, in thinking of them,— he a noble young prince 
of great manly beauty and endowed by nature with 
all charming and lovable qualities; she the most ex- 
quisite of womankind,— I thought it would be strange 
indeed if in the intimate companionship of that 
long ride together they had not become so deeply in- 
terested in each other as to forget the existence of a 
young American gentleman three thousand miles 
away. 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


429 


When in the winter there came news of the Ca- 
doudal plots against the life of Napoleon, in which 
the young Prince de Polignac and his older brother 
the duke were involved; that both brothers had been 
arrested, tried, and condemned to death; and, later, 
that Napoleon had granted them a free pardon, I 
could easily believe that other interests than love and 
marriage had so absorbed the prince as to make him 
forgetful of a distant acquaintance. 

On the heels of this appalling news, which shook 
the world and which yet left me glad and grateful 
that the chivalrous young prince had been saved from 
the ignominious death of an assassin, there came a 
letter to me from Captain Clarke, written in St. 
Louis, inviting me to join the expedition of discovery 
and exploration which Mr. Meriwether Lewis and he 
were to conduct up the Missouri River and across the 
mountains. 

Few duties have come to me in life more difficult to 
perform than the writing of that letter declining the 
invitation. It was the life I longed for, to be had for 
the taking, and an expedition of such kind under the 
leadership of two men like my captain, whom I still 
adored, and Mr. Meriwether Lewis, whom I greatly 
admired, was the strongest temptation that could be 
presented to me. 

But I knew well it was not for me. It would, no 
doubt, be a year or two in the accomplishing, with 
many hazards to life and limb, and I was now the 
virtual head of the family, with mother and sisters 
and invalid father all looking to me for protection 


430 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and guidance and comfort. No, it was not to be 
thought of. 

Without consulting any one I sent my answer, but 
I suppose my face was an open book to my dear mo- 
ther, and in some moment of abstraction I had for- 
gotten to be cheerful and so betrayed that something 
was troubling me. At any rate, she came to my 
room one night, and there, in the way that mothers 
have, she beguiled my secret from me. She agreed 
with me that it would never do in my father’s state 
of health to join such an expedition, but she was 
greatly distressed for what she called my disappoint- 
ment, though I tried to assure her it was not enough 
to think about. 

Now mothers have a way of finding a salve for 
every hurt. I suppose it is a talent God has given 
them, that this world may be a pleasanter place for 
living in, and that the rugged path we have to tread 
through it may be smoother and pleasanter to our feet. 
(Though I hope no one will think because I have said 
this that I am one of those long-faced people who 
think this world a vale of woes to be traversed as 
quickly as possible, looking neither to the right nor 
to the left, lest they see something to please their eyes. 

I have ever found it a pleasant world, and my path 
through it of exceeding interest, with some sorrows 
and many difficulties to test one’s mettle and add to 
the zest of living ; but also with many wonderful and 
beautiful things lying all along the path, that God 
has placed there that one may stop and enjoy them 
and rest by the wayside.) 


Under the old flag 


431 


Now the salve my mother found for this hurt was 
one to my especial liking. 

“ Though you could not be gone from home two or 
three years, my son,” she said, “a matter of two or 
three months could make no great difference to any 
one; why not go out to St. Louis, see your friends 
there, and help the expedition get under way?” 

My heart gave a great leap. “And get news of 
mademoiselle from Dr. Saugrain,” I said to myself; 
but then I hesitated. Would my father miss me too 
sadly? for he had seemed to lean upon me much for 
comfort and companionship. When I expressed my 
fears to my mother, she hesitated also, but we both 
finally agreed we would leave it to her to broach the 
matter to my father, and if it seemed to distress him 
too greatly, we would say nothing more about it. 

To my surprise, he was almost more eager for it 
than my mother. It need not have surprised me, for 
even in the old days my father, though stern, had 
never been selfish, and now all the unselfishness of his 
nature had seemed to grow strong with his feebleness. 

Thus it was that I stood once more on the shores 
of the Great River. Had my impatience permitted 
me to wait a little longer at Pittsburg, I might have 
found a boat going all the way to St. Louis, but I 
had rather take the ride of nearly a hundred and 
fifty miles on Bourbon (for so I had shortened his 
name) than to spend a day in idle waiting. A barge 
going to New Orleans (New Orleans had been under 
our flag since the twentieth of December, and the 
river was teeming with craft bearing our merchan- 


432 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


dise to the once prohibited market) took me on board 
and put me ashore at New Madrid in the early morn- 
ing, and I lost not a moment ’s time in getting started 
on my northward way. 

The spring was early that year, and in the warm 
and sheltered valley, lying open to the south, where 
New Madrid nestles, the orchards were already a pink 
and white glory, and in the forest glades the wild 
azaleas and the dogwood were just ready to burst into 
bloom. Riding under leafy archways of tall trees 
garlanded with wild vines, or through natural mea- 
dows dotted with clumps of shrubbery, as if set out by 
the hand of man for a park, where the turf was like 
velvet under Bourbon’s feet; crossing little streams 
that a sudden rush of headwater from the hills 
had swollen to dangerous torrents, or other streams 
that backwater from the Great River had con- 
verted into inland lakes; the air sweet with the fra- 
grance of the wild crab and blossoming grape ; wood- 
thrush and oriole, meadow-lark and cardinal-bird, 
making the woods ring with their melodies— this ride 
through Upper Louisiana in the early springtime 
was one long joy to eye and ear and nostril. Farther 
north the spring was less advanced, only little leaves 
on the trees, and for flowers a carpet, sometimes ex- 
tending for miles, of creamy-white spring-beau- 
ties, streaked with rosy pink, laid down for Bour- 
bon’s feet to tread upon; and for birds the modest 
song-sparrow and bluebird, earliest harbingers of 
spring. 

I stayed the first night in Cape Girardeau (and 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


433 


thought of the chevalier in hiding for weeks among 
the Osages near by) ; the second night I spent with the 
Valles in Ste. Genevieve. I had known young Fran- 
cois Valle in St. Louis the winter before, and meeting 
me on the street as I rode into town, he carried me off 
at once to his father’s house with true Louisiana hos- 
pitality— a hospitality that welcomed the coming 
but did not speed the parting guest. I found it hard 
work to get away the next morning, with such 
friendly insistence did they urge me to remain for a 
visit, seeming to feel also that I was putting a slight 
upon their quaint old town— the oldest in Upper 
Louisiana— by so short a stay. 

But I was impatient to be on my way, and my im- 
patience grew as I neared St. Louis. A long day’s 
ride brought me toward evening to the banks of the 
Maramec, full to the brim of its high banks with back- 
water from the Mississippi. I thought, at first, I 
would have to swim it, but, fortunately, I spied a 
horn hanging from the limb of a sycamore above my 
head, and I knew enough of the ways of this frontier 
country to know that a horn by a river-bank meant a 
ferry. So I blew it lustily, and in five minutes there 
appeared from under the overhanging trees of the 
opposite bank a flatboat, paddled by an old man, 
who not only ferried Bourbon and me safely across 
dry-shod, but persuaded me to spend the night with 
him in his little cabin; for the night was coming 
on cloudy and dark, and there were still nearly twenty 
miles to ride, and swollen streams to cross that might 
mean trouble in the dark. He had not the great 
28 


434 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


house of the Valles, with troops of slaves to wait on 
us and an abundance of frontier luxuries (for Mr. 
Francois Valle, Sr., was the richest man in all that 
country) but his hospitality was as genuine. For 
the ferriage he took money, since that was his busi- 
ness; for the night ’s lodging and supper and break- 
fast he would have none of it. True, my bed was only 
a bearskin on the hard floor, and my supper and 
breakfast were the same,— a slice of bacon and a bowl 
of hominy,— but such as he had he gave me of his best. 

In the early dawn I had a plunge in the Maramec 
for bath (and its waters had the icy tang of the 
melting snows on the distant mountains), and then 
I made a careful toilet, for in a few hours I would 
see my old friends in St. Louis, and, at thought of the 
merry glances from bright eyes I would soon be 
meeting, my heart sank within me that Pelagie’s 
would not be among them. 

As I neared St. Louis, every step of the way was 
full of reminders of her. Crossing La Petite Riviere, 
I thought of the day of the picnic on Chouteau’s 
Pond, and involuntarily I listened for the call of the 
whippoorwill. But instead there was the happy song 
of the spring birds filling the woods that crested the 
banks, and my heart grew lighter in response to 
their joyous melodies. 

I entered the town by the lower entrance, leading 
through the stockade on to the Rue Royale, for I was 
of a mind to ride through the streets of the town and 
see whom I should chance to meet before presenting 
myself at Dr. Saugrain’s. 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


435 


I had advanced no great distance when I saw com- 
ing to meet me a splendid procession : young men and 
maidens, parents and children, the whole population 
of the town, I should think, in gala array, and singing 
as they came. 

I was overwhelmed at the prospect of such honor 
accorded me, and greatly touched, too, that my old 
friends should welcome me back so gladly, but I was in 
a quandary what to do : whether it would be more dig- 
nified to stay Bourbon in the middle of the road and 
await their approach, or whether to advance to meet 
them. 

It puzzled me greatly, also, that they should have 
known the exact moment of my arrival, for although 
both Dr. Saugrain and Captain Clarke knew of .my 
intended visit, they could hardly have calculated to 
such a nicety not only the day but the very hour of 
my entry into town. It must be that pickets had been 
stationed to descry my approach from a distance and 
give the signal. 

Still puzzling my brains over the wonder of it all, 
and hardly knowing whether to feel more proud or 
more frightened at the honor intended me, and wish- 
ing with all my heart that I had known of it that I 
might have arrayed myself in a costume befitting the 
occasion, I slowly drew near the procession, and the 
procession drew near me. 

Then suddenly I discovered what nothing but my 
domtiferous vanity had prevented me from discern- 
ing from the first: this was a religious procession 
bearing the banners of the church and singing Aves 


436 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


and Te Dennis. I had known such processions before 
in St. Louis on saints’ days, and always headed by 
the two most beautiful maidens in the town, bearing 
silver plates, who, as the procession drew up to the 
church, stood on either side of the door holding the 
plates to receive alms. I drew Bourbon to one side 
of the road and waited. 

Yes, there were the two beautiful maidens with 
the silver plates, and I was not surprised to see that 
one was Mademoiselle Chouteau ; and as she drew 
near she could not resist a saucy look of recognition 
in her dancing eyes, entirely out of character in the 
leader of a religious procession. I smiled back at 
her, my heart already growing warmer and lighter 
with her friendliness, and then I glanced at the other : 
a wavy mass of soft, dark hair, little ringlets about 
white neck and brow, lips like a scarlet pomegranate 
blossom, and long, black lashes lying on an ivory 
cheek, where the pale rose was fast turning to crimson 
under my gaze. 

It was Pelagie ! Her cheek told the tale that she 
knew I was looking at her, yet not once did she lift 
her eyes and look at me. I wonder that my heart did 
not break through my breast, so great a bound it 
made when I discovered her, and then all the blood 
in my body flowed back upon it, and I sat on Bourbon 
as one carved in marble, while friends and acquain- 
tances passed by and smiled up at me in kindly wel- 
come. Not until Josef Papin left the ranks and came 
up to me with outstretched hand could I recover 
myself and begin to feel alive again, with the blood 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


437 


slowly running back in its courses and tingling in my 
finger-tips. 

“Come,” he said, when the first greetings were 
over, “tie your horse to the tree, and we will fall in at 
the end of the line and go up to the church together. 
This is no saint’s day, as you might think, but we are 
to have mass for the last time under the old rule. The 
United States troops come over to-day from Cahokia 
and take possession.” 

This was wonderful news to me, and I could not 
but feel a great sympathy with him, for he spoke 
with a voice that faltered. What would it not have 
meant to me if my own city of Philadelphia were 
being transferred to the rule of France or Spain ! 

On our way he told me what my soul most longed 
to hear: how mademoiselle came to be in St. Louis. 

Her cousin, the Due d’Enghien, had begun to feel 
that his home was no longer a safe place for her, for 
Bonaparte’s spies were watching him, and he felt that 
though Baden was neutral territory he might at any 
moment be arrested and thrown into prison. That 
would leave Pelagie entirely unprotected, and he had 
begun to consider some other safer retreat for her. 
When mademoiselle found that she was to be sent 
away from Ettenheim, she begged that she might re- 
turn to St. Louis, the only place she had known as 
home, and to the people she loved, who had been to 
her kindred and friends. It was only after much 
pleading that the duke had been persuaded to let her 
go so far from home again, but mademoiselle’s heart 
was set on it. 


438 THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

“And ” said Josef Papin, “as we both know, 
when she will, she will; I defy any man to 
her. She arrived two weeks ago by way of New Or 
leans with a Monsieur and Madame Dubois, new y 
married, I believe, who were coming over to Amenco 

,0 “Monsieur and Madame Dnboia!” X said, in some 

'““i yon know themi” asked Josef, curiously. 

“I am not sure. I may have met them; I met a 
Monsieur and Madame Dubois once at Chantilly near 
Paris,” I answered carelessly, but very 1 y y 

are not the same.’ T <• “for 

“No they could not be,” answered Josef tor 

they were married only just before leaving tor Amer- 

1C And then there was no chance to say anything 
more for our end of the procession was nearing the 
church door, where on either side stood Mademoiselle 
Chouteau and Pelagie, holding out their silver plates 

already piled high with livres. 

As 1 glanced at Pelagie I felt as if royalty radiated 
from her-from the proud pose of her dain y 
to the high-bred arch of her little foot. A princess 
of Conde!” I exclaimed to myself half angn y, ant 
meekly holding the church plate for ne § r 
dians and humble habitans, and smi hng up into the 
faces of her old friends with a royal sweetness. 

I was on the side next her as we drew near the 

door Will she look at me? I wondered. Me were 

the last in the line; it would hinder no one if 
stopped a moment beside her. 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


439 


But I could not make her look up at me. One louis 
d’or after another I piled upon her plate, but the 
only effect it had was to make it tremble in her 
hands and the color deepen steadily in her face. I 
could not stand there gazing rudely at her, and I 
went into the church beside Josef Papin as in a 
dream, half doubting it was mademoiselle, yet watch- 
ing her eagerly as she and Mademoiselle Chouteau 
bore the plates up the aisle and held them aloft be- 
fore the altar for the priest to bless. 

The service that followed was indescribably sol- 
emn and touched me greatly ; it was as though it were 
a service for the dead, and the people (the whole vil- 
lage was there, every man, woman, and child I had 
known the year before) chanted the responses with 
the tears running down their cheeks. Josef Papin 
had told me that the old priest who had baptized all 
the younger generation and married their parents 
was going away with the Spaniards, unwilling to be 
subject to a foreign rule, and the mourning of the 
people for their father was from the heart. 

As they knelt upon the floor to receive the benedic- 
tion (and the sound of their kneeling was like the 
breeze among the dry leaves of autumn) they broke 
out into a long, low wail that rose and swelled and 
then died away in the sound of suppressed sobbing. 
Nevermore under Latin rule would they kneel in 
their dear old church, but under the rule of the 
hated Anglo-Saxons, their hereditary foe. Nevermore 
would the priest they had loved and reverenced for 
years extend his hands over them in blessing. The 
good father’s voice broke again and again as he tried 


440 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 

in vain to utter the familiar words, until at length, 
his hands upraised to heaven, tears streaming from 
his eyes, he uttered the simple words, Go m peace, 

my children.” . T . 

I was near the door and I slipped quietly out. It 
was not a time to meet old friends, and I felt like one 
intruding upon a house of mourning Heads were 
still bowed in the solemn hush that followed the 
benediction and no one saw me go. I hurried back to 
where I had left Bourbon, mounted him, and rode 
slowly up toward Government House. 

Long before I reached it the streets were tiled- 
With the quick change from grave to gay, natural 
to these volatile creoles, the same people that a few 
moments ago had been all tears and sorrow were now 
all excitement and curiosity. Down from the fort 
on the hill marched a troop of Spanish soldiers, stop- 
ping at Government House to salute the governor, 
and then forming in company order in front of the 
house to await the coming of the United States 

Beside Governor Delassus on the gallery of Gov 
ernment House stood my old friend Mr. Meriwether 
Lewis; for he seemed an old friend to me, though 
had known him but that one memorable day in Wash- 
ington. In response to a friendly wave of the hand 
from both I dismounted and ran up the steps to 
speak to them for a moment. They presented me to 
a third officer, Captain Stoddard, the officer m com- 
mand of the United States troops who were to take 
possession, and also, as Governor Delassus informed 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


441 


me, empowered by the French prefect at New Or- 
leans to receive the city for the French republic from 
the Spanish. 

I stayed only a moment, for Captain Lewis told me 
I would find Captain Clarke and Dr. Saugrain at 
the landing at the foot of the Rue Bonhomme, so I 
followed in the wake of the motley crowd of habi- 
tans, negroes, and Indians trooping along the Rue 
Royale and filling La Place with a many-colored 
throng, as they had filled it on the day I first set foot 
in St. Louis. 

Bourbon Prince picked his way carefully along the 
steep path that led down the bluff to the landing at 
the foot of the Rue Bonhomme, where the boats from 
Cahokia bearing the United States troops were already 
approaching the shore, and where I found awaiting 
them, as Captain Lewis had said I should, my old 
friend, the little doctor, and my captain (for so I 
shall always call Captain Clarke), and the warmth 
of their greeting set my heart to dancing merrily. 

My spirits had been rising steadily every moment 
since I had recovered from my stupefaction at the 
sight of Pelagie. What though she would not look at 
me, I was nothing daunted; for now that she was 
safe on American soil,— yes, American , Spanish no 
longer,— nor chevaliers nor dukes nor First Consuls 
should deter me from boldly trying to win her. For 
the first time since I had known her I felt that I had 
a right to try. She was no longer a titled lady of 
France, and I was now my own master and could 
maintain her in greater luxury than she had ever 


442 


THE ROSE OP OLD ST. LOUIS 

known. I would take her home with me to Philadel- 
phia! and my dear mother and my fond old father 
would love her as they loved my sisters. My spirit 
was exultant, and that she dared not meet my eyes 
lent more of hope than discouragement. 

So it was with a happy heart that I met the little 
doctor’s beaming glance, and felt the strong grasp of 
my captain’s hand as he uttered his hearty Wel- 
come home, my lad.” And little I cared that he 
called me lad; indeed, had he addressed me by any 
other title I should have missed some of the friendli- 
ness of his greeting. ^ ,, 

“You are to stay at Emigre’s Retreat, you know, 
said Dr. Saugrain; “Madame Saugrain is as happy 
in the thought of your home-coming as if you were 
her own boy.” 

But Josef Papin coming down the bluff at that mo- 
ment and overhearing the doctor, interposed: 

“No, Dr. Saugrain, he is my guest this time. You 
had him all last winter, and you have had Captain 
Clarke and Captain Lewis all this winter; you must 
share some of your honors with me. 

It was not for me to decide a question of such kind, 
and though my heart turned longingly to the hos- 
pitable hearth that had first entertained me m St. 
Louis, feeling that in no other house would it seem so 
truly a home-coming, yet I was not sure but it was 
better that it was finally decided that I should stay 
with Josef Papin, for I was determined to put my 
fortune to the touch, and should Pelagie prove un- 
kind (a contingency, however, that I refused to con- 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


443 


template), it would be embarrassing indeed to be 
under the same roof with her. 

But now there was no longer time for discussion of 
any kind, for the boats were running their keels into 
the bank, and Lieutenant Worrall, temporarily in 
command of the troops, was the first man to leap 
ashore. We all went down to meet him, and when he 
had formed his battalion in line, we accompanied him 
up the steep bluff and down the Rue Royale to Gov- 
ernment House, a great throng following. 

Then Lieutenant Worrall drew up his troops fa- 
cing the Spanish troops. The open space where the 
Rue Royale crossed the Rue de la Tour was densely 
packed with people. Every man, woman, and child 
of the village, it seemed to me, must be there, yet I 
looked in vain for either Madame Saugrain or Pe- 
lagie. I fastened Bourbon farther up the street, and 
at the invitation of Governor Delassus sent us by an 
orderly I accompanied Dr. Saugrain, Josef Papin, 
and my captain to the gallery of Government House, 
where we found also both the Chouteaus and many 
of the leading citizens of the village. 

As soon as the American troops were drawn up in 
line, Governor Delassus stepped to the front of the 
gallery, holding in his hand a document bearing the 
seals of the United States and of Spain, and at a 
sign from him, Captain Stoddard stepped to his side, 
a similar document in his hand. Then Governor De- 
lassus held the paper up so that all the people might 
see, and, as every voice was hushed and all eyes 
turned on him, he read: 


444 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“Now be it known unto all men by these presents 
that I, Carlos D. Delassus, in quality of lieutenant- 
governor, at the requirement duly made to me by 
Amos Stoddard, agent and commissary of the French 
republic, have delivered to him the full possession, 
sovereignty, and government of Upper Louisiana, 
with all the military posts, quarters, and fortifica- 
tions thereto belonging or dependent thereof/ ’ 
Immediately Captain Stoddard took up the refrain, 
reading on from where the governor stopped: 

“And I, Amos Stoddard, commissary as such, do 
acknowledge to have received the said possession on 
the same terms mentioned in these presents, of which 
I acknowledge myself satisfied and possessed on this 
day. In testimony whereof the lieutenant-governor 
and myself have respectively signed these presents, 
sealed with the seal of our arms, being assisted with 
the witnesses signed below. Of which proceedings six 
copies have been made out, to wit, three in the Span- 
ish and three in the English languages. 

“Given in the town of St. Louis of Illinois, 9th 
March, 1804. 

‘ ‘ Amos Stoddard ( seal ) 

“Carlos Dehault Delassus (seal) 
“In presence of 
Meriwether Lewis, 

Captain First United States Regiment Infantry. 

Antoine Soulard, 

Surveyor-General, etc. 

Charles Gratiot/ ’ 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


445 


As Captain Stoddard finished reading, the gov- 
ernor turned to him and with formal courtesy placed 
him in possession of Government House. Captain 
Stoddard accepted it with a brief and appropriate 
speech, and then, the silence still unbroken, the 
stately don turned once more to the people and spoke 
to them directly : 

“Inhabitants of Upper Louisiana: 

“By the king's command I am about to deliver up 
this post and its dependencies ! 

‘ ‘ The flag under which you have been protected for 
a period of nearly thirty-six years is to be withdrawn. 
From this moment you are released from the oath of 
fidelity you took to support it.” 

There was a stir among the people. Tears were 
running down the weather-beaten faces of some of 
the older men, and many of the women were sobbing 
quietly. Visibly moved himself, the governor added 
another word: 

“The fidelity and courage with which you have 
guarded and defended the flag will never be for- 
gotten; and in my character of representative I en- 
tertain the most sincere wishes for your perfect pros- 
perity.” 

The governor bowed and stepped back, and in- 
stantly there broke from the people a storm of adios 
and benitos with tears and waving of hands. 

The governor motioned to a soldier standing by. 
The soldier stepped to a corner of the gallery which 
could be seen from the fort on the hill, and waved his 


446 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


hat. Instantly puffs of white smoke issued from the 
full battery of the fort, followed by the roar of the 
cannon rolling across the wide river to the distant 
bluffs of Cahokia. As the last echo died away the 
soldier waved his hat once more. Slowly the flag of 
Spain floating above the white tower sank. Once 
more the cannon roared, and slowly the banner of 
France rose, higher and higher, until its folds were 
flung proudly to the breeze, above the tower on the 
hill, above the Great River, above the old French 
town where it had floated thirty-six years before. 

Almost every soul, save negroes and Indians, m 
that multitude watching in breathless silence the ex- 
change of the flags, was French, and as the banner of 
the land they had never ceased to love and to call 
home floated out on the breeze, with one accord they 
fell on their knees, eyes streaming, arms outstretched 
toward the loved symbol of their fatherland. 

It had been the intention that the flag should re- 
main there but a few minutes— just long enough to 
show that Upper Louisiana was French, and that 
France ceded it to the United States. But now Pierre 
and Auguste Chouteau, the older Papin, Dr. Sau- 
grain, all the leading citizens on the gallery of Gov- 
ernment House, gathered around Captain Stoddard 
and begged him, with trembling voices and misty eyes, 
to let the old flag stay for another day. 

“Let us be Frenchmen for twenty-four hours / 9 
they begged, “and after that we will try to be loyal 
citizens of the United States, as we have been loyal 
citizens of Spain/ ’ 


UNDER THE OLD FLAG 


447 


When Captain Lewis and Captain Clarke added 
their plea for the Frenchmen, Captain Stoddard will- 
ingly granted it, and stepping to the front of the 
gallery, he announced that for twenty-four hours the 
flag of the French republic would float over St. Louis. 

Then broke forth a delirium of joy. Men threw 
their arms around one another and embraced and 
kissed in a fashion strange, indeed, to us Anglo- 
Saxons; and women fell into one another’s arms and 
sobbed. The roar of the cannon had not ceased to roll 
over the heads of the people at intervals of every two 
minutes, and now the United States troops took their 
line of march up the Rue de la Tour to the fort on 
the hill (for though the American flag did not float 
from it, they were to hold it in the name of France) ; 
and the Spanish troops marched away. 

The ceremonies for the day were over; the cannon 
ceased to roar, and Captain Stoddard, who was now 
in possession of Government House, invited us all to 
stay to dejeuner. The meal was a long and ceremo- 
nious one, with the Spanish don on Captain Stod- 
dard’s right and one of the Chouteaus on his left, 
and I far down the table with some of the younger 
men; and through it all I was thinking of that first 
meal I had taken in St. Louis in this same Govern- 
ment House a year and a half before, and of the 
toast that roused such enthusiasm then; and every 
moment my impatience grew to get away and visit 
Emigre’s Retreat and Madame Saugrain, and— the 
Rose of St. Louis. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS 

44 What ’s in a name ? that which we call a rose 
By any other name would smell as sweet.” 

B UT my impatience was of little avail, for before 
we left Government House Dr. Saugrain invited 
me to dinner at Emigre’s Retreat, and restless and 
impatient as I might be, I did not dare show myself 
there until the dinner-hour. 

Five o’clock found me sitting in the dear old living- 
room, awaiting with trembling the entrance of ma- 
dame and Pelagie. It was the same dear old room I 
had pictured to myself so often, and all the grand 
salons of Paris that I had seen since last I saw it did 
not make it look any the less cozy and homelike to my 
eyes. It was a warm spring afternoon, and the west- 
ern windows were open, and the white curtains were 
stirring in the breeze, only there was no maiden in 
white on the low seat by the window, and no guitar 
and no Leon. 

I had but a moment to wait. The door opened and 
in came madame, both hands outstretched and run- 
ning to meet me, and as I bent low before her, taking 
my face in both her hands and putting a kiss on my 
448 


THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS 


449 


cheek and calling me “My son.” And behind her 
came Pelagie, walking slowly but looking up at me, 
yes, looking at me at last, with starry eyes and a 
great pulse throbbing in her snowy throat, and little 
tongues of color coming and going in her cheeks. I 
was almost of a mind there, right before madame, to 
take her in my arms and call her mine, for mine I 
was determined she should be; and I looked at her 
with such a threatening glance I think she divined 
my half-purpose and shrank back a little. 

So instead I merely bowed over her hand and said 
gaily : 

“You condescend to look at me at last, mademoi- 
selle; I feared to-day I was to be forever banished 
from your friendly glances/ ’ 

And she, relieved from her first apprehension, an- 
swered saucily : 

“If monsieur comes unannounced, how can he ex- 
pect to be recognized after so many months of ab- 
sence ?” 

And then in stalked majestically Leon, limping 
very slightly, and when he caught sight of me coming 
up to me and sniffing at me a moment, and then 
springing upon me with such wild bounds of delight 
that I had to call hold, lest his great paws play havoc 
with my fine Paris clothes that I had donned in made- 
moiselle ’s honor. And to quiet him I said in a high, 
small voice, in palpable burlesque of mademoiselle : 

“Taise-toi, mon ange!” and we both laughed mer- 
rily. 

I was so happy that I was ready to do everything 

29 


450 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


that was foolish, and I believe mademoiselle was 
happy, too, for nothing that I did was too foolish for 
her to laugh at. 

Then in came the little doctor, running up to me 
and insisting on embracing me (because I was in his 
own house), pulling down my head and kissing me 
on each cheek, at which I blushed greatly, though I 
had not blushed when madame kissed me. And 
then came my captain and Captain Lewis, and every 
one talked at once, asking all manner of questions on 
all manner of subjects, and I had scarcely a chance to 
say another word to Pelagie. 

An d then came dinner. As usual, madame put 
me beside her, and Pelagie sat at the other end of the 
table. But there was no scorning this time, and I had 
better chance to look at her than if she sat beside 
me, and perhaps that was best, for my eyes could say 
to her much more than my lips would dare in such 
a company. 

Narcisse waited on the table, and was all smiles of 
welcome; and half-way through dinner, on some pre- 
text or other, in came Clotilde, and greeted me, half 
crying through her smiles at memory of our trials 
together. And last of all came Yorke, grinning from 
ear to ear, and “declarin’ to gracious I ’d growed a 
foot sence, ’ ’ whereupon I was of a mind to thrash him 
on the spot, and told him so, which made him grin 
the more, if that were possible. 

It was a grand dinner, and I told Madame Saugrain 
I had never tasted in Paris anything half so good as 
her wild turkey and croquecignolles and gooseberry 


THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS 


451 


wine, whicli I meant with all my heart, and which 
greatly pleased her housewifely soul. 

Back in the living-room, when dinner was over, I 
missed something, and looked around the room to dis- 
cover what it was. It was the long French mirror 
in which I had once watched Pelagie— the pride of 
madame’s heart. 

“Why, madame,” I said, “what have you done 
with your mirror ? ’ ’ 

She shrugged her shoulders and looked ruefully at 
her husband. 

“Antoine,” she said, “needed some quicksilver for 
his experiments. Yoila! my mirror!” 

I glanced at Dr. Saugrain; he blushed and looked 
guilty, and so, for some reason, I thought, did Captain 
Lewis. 

“I will explain,” said my captain. “You must 
know, my lad, that these two,” indicating the doctor 
and Captain Lewis with a wave of his hand, “have 
been confederates all winter in black art. They have 
lived in the laboratory, and the instruments they have 
evolved for our trip up the Missouri and over the 
mountains are fearful and wonderful to behold. We 
are each of us provided with a box of little phosphorus 
sticks by which we are to do away entirely with all 
use of tinder. But much more wonderful than those, 
out of madame ’s mirror Dr. Saugrain has fashioned 
little glass tubes holding quicksilver, and with a mea- 
sure laid off on the side by which we may be able to tell 
just how hot or how cold it may be. And more won- 
derful still, he has fashioned other little tubes by 


452 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


which we are to tell when it is going to storm and 
when it will be fair weather. And I cannot begin to 
tell you all the wonderful appliances this magician 
has fashioned for our comfort and safety this winter, 
aided and abetted by his willing slave, Captain 
Lewis. ’ ’ 

That unloosed the doctor’s tongue, and there was 
no getting away the rest of the evening from the 
wonders of science ; and so strange were the things he 
and Captain Lewis had to tell of what science could 
do that I could have greatly enjoyed their talk had 
I not been longing for a few words with Pelagie. 

I determined that another day should not go by 
without my having them, and so, in the course of the 
evening, I managed to ask her if she would ride with 
me the next afternoon to Chouteau’s Pond. A riding- 
party of two to Chouteau’s Pond was of frequent oc- 
currence in the village, and I would not have feared 
a refusal but that Pelagie had now been living so 
long where stricter social forms prevailed, so I 
awaited her answer with trembling. But she gave a 
shy assent, and for me the evening at Emigre’s Re- 
treat was a grand success. 

Twelve o’clock the next day, March the tenth, saw 
us all once more at Government House ; and once more 
the American troops were drawn up before it, and 
once more the people filled the streets. 

The people were very quiet; there was no longer 
any rejoicing; but every eye was lifted to the flag that 
was so soon to sink from sight. 

There were many Indians in the streets,— Dela- 


THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS 


453 


wares, Sacs, Shawnees, and others,— attracted to the 
town by the noise of firing the day before. Captain 
Stoddard had asked Governor Delassus to speak to 
r hem and explain to them the change of government, 
and the soldiers had been sent to gather them up 
close to the gallery of Government House, where Don 
Delassus might speak to them. A dark-faced throng, 
serious of countenance, they stood looking up at us, 
not a muscle of their countenances changing while 
the governor spoke to them in the formal and stately 
fashion they loved. 

“ Delawares, Sacs, Shawnees, and others, my red 
brothers : 

“Your old fathers, the Spaniard and the French- 
man, grasp by the hand your new father, the head 
chief of the United States. By an act of their good- 
will, and in virtue of their last treaty, I have deliv- 
ered up to them all these lands. They will keep and 
defend them, and protect all the white and redskins 
who live thereon. You will live as happily as if the 
Spaniard were still here. 

“I have informed your new father, who here takes 
my place, that the Delawares, Shawnees, and Sacs 
have always conducted themselves well ; that the 
chiefs have always restrained their young men as 
much as possible. 

“For several days we have fired off cannon to an- 
nounce to all the nations that your father the Span- 
iard is going, his heart happy to know that you will 
be protected and sustained by your new father, and 
that the smoke of the powder may ascend to the 


454 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


Maker of life, praying him to shower on you all a 
happy destiny and prosperity in always living in 
good union with the whites. ’ ’ 

There were many guttural “Ughs!” as he finished 
and I think, from the way the dark eyes scanned the 
faces of the new officers, they comprehended at least 
a part of what had been said to them. 

Once more a soldier at the comer of the gallery 
waved his hat toward the white tower ; once more the 
cannon boomed and slowly the tricolor of France 
descended, while the Stars and Stripes rose to meet it. 
Half-way up the flagstaff they stopped. For a mo- 
ment they floated in the breeze, side by side, and an 
involuntary cheer sprang from the people at the 
friendly sight. Then slowly the tricolor sank, and 
slowly rose the starry banner, flinging out its broad 
bars of white and crimson, beautiful emblem of liberty 
and the sovereignty of a free people, over the little vil- 
lage, nestling among the trees on the bluffs, that may 
one day be a mighty city ; over the Great River flowing 
to the Gulf that a not far future may see bearing the 
commerce of a world on its bosom; over the broad 
prairies stretching to the distant mountains which 
coming years will surely see peopled with happy mil- 
lions. 

My heart swelled within me. I swung my hat high 
in the air and lustily led the cheers of our troops and 
our little party on the gallery. But we were only a 
small band, and we made not much noise, and all the 
French and Spaniards stood and looked sadly on. 
And because our hearts were touched by their sorrow, 


THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS 


455 


we cheered no more, but looked up at our beautiful 
banner with pride and joy and love in our hearts. 

Three hours later I was sitting on the gallery at 
Emigre’s Retreat waiting for mademoiselle, as I had 
waited for her on the day of the picnic at Chouteau’s 
Pond. Narcisse was holding Bourbon Prince by the 
driveway below, and I was struggling to preserve a 
calm exterior, for my heart was going like a trip- 
hammer while I listened for my lady’s coming. 

Out upon the gallery she stepped, riding-habit and 
hat and veil of latest Paris mode— not the little Pela- 
gie of the picnic day, but Pelagie a princess of Conde, 
and my heart almost failed me. 

I looked at her, and she was smiling at me with a 
smile I did not understand. Then she looked away, 
and my eyes followed hers. Around the corner of the 
house Yorke was leading a horse,— a white star on 
the forehead and one white foot like Bourbon Prince, 
but beautiful chestnut in color. For a moment 1 for- 
got my lady. Down the steps I sprang, and my arm 
was around the neck of the chestnut mare. 

“Sweetheart!” I whispered in her ear. “Do you 
know me, sweetheart?” 

She whinnied with joy and rubbed her soft muzzle 
up and down my arm, and whinnied again, while 
Yorke showed all his teeth in his delight, and my 
lady laughed and clapped her hands like a happy 
child. 

I had not thought it possible she could bring Fa- 
tima with her and so had not asked for her, though, 


456 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


truth to tell, I had had but little chance to ask her 
about anything. 

When I said so to her, “I would not have come 
without her,” she said, looking shyly at me. 4 'But I 
hope you do not want her back, for I love her dearly.” 

Yes, I wanted her back, I said to myself; but with 
her mistress, too ; but my only answer to mademoiselle 
was a smile that I think she understood, for she looked 
quickly away from me. 

Then I put her on Fatima’s back, who bore a Pa- 
risian saddle now instead of a pillion, and out through 
the stockade we rode, and down the rough path to La 
Petite Riviere, and through the ford (deeper now, 
from spring freshets, than it had been when I lis- 
tened to the whippoorwills), and along the wooded 
bank on the other side, where we had raced to get 
away from the redskin (though that she never knew), 
and still I had not said the words I meant to say. 

Under the tree that had been the goal for our race 
I drew up a minute. Here, I thought, will be a place 
of happy omen, for here I won my first dance with 
her, and here I will win her. But suddenly I recalled 
that this was the spot where I had first seen the cheva- 
lier; no, it was of evil omen. “By hairbreadth es- 
capes we always win,” he had said. I feared the 
“luck of the Le Moynes” and their baleful motto. 

Where we had stopped to look at the lake before, 
I stopped again. It was almost more beautiful in its 
setting of the soft pinks and greens of early spring 
than it had been under the golden sun of autumn, and 
here, I thought, I will say it. But the glimpse of the 


THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS 


457 


ivied mill tower among the trees, and the beautiful 
water and its wooded banks, reminded Pelagie of 
Ettenheim, and she began to tell me of a letter she 
had just received from the Due d’Enghien, which 
made her very anxious. 

4 ‘He writes,’ ’ said Pelagie, “that he is being fol- 
lowed everywhere by an Englishman who, he feels 
sure, is a spy in the pay of Bonaparte— I will never 
call him emperor!” said Pelagie, with fiery eye. 
“And while he says he feels no alarm for himself, he 
is more and more glad to think that I am so safely 
away from all dangers.” 

But the thought of her letter had saddened Pelagie 
for a while, and I would not speak then. How little 
we dreamed that on that very day, perhaps at that 
very hour, the young duke was being seized by Napo- 
leon’s emissaries, in violation of all treaties of neu- 
trality, and hurried to the gloomy fortress of Vin- 
cennes, where, ten days later, after a mock trial of 
two hours in the dead of night, with no chance of 
defense given him, he was taken out and shot and 
buried in the trench where he fell. When the dread- 
ful news reached us, weeks later, it darkened for 
a while my sweet Pelagie ’s life, as it was the one 
crime not even the friends of Napoleon can excuse or 
forgive : the one dark blot on his fame time will never 
erase. 

But that afternoon we were in happy ignorance of 
what was happening four thousand miles away, and 
Pelagie ’s sadness was but a passing shadow and in a 
little while we were both joyous again. 


458 


THE ROSE OF OLD ST. LOUIS 


“Rock Spring,” I thought, “beloved of lovers, will 
be the place.” But at Rock Spring I could think of 
nothing but Yorke astride the chevalier’s back, the 
grimy spectacle the chevalier presented when Yorke 
was dislodged, and then the fearful peril Pelagie 
had been in when I fled with her in my arms on Fa- 
tima’s back. No, Rock Spring was not the place. 

And so we were once more back at the ford, almost 
home, and the long shadows lying on the cool water, 
and a thrush singing his evening-song in the wooded 
crests behind us, and my tale had not been told. We 
had had much sweet converse, and many times the 
words were on my lips, but somehow— -I know not how 
—Pelagie always managed to turn me aside. At least 
I think she did, for with the words on my lips I would 
find myself talking of something else. 

Now, as our horses swashed their noses in the cool 
water, and sent the bright drops in showers about us, 
I looked down upon her, the dark green of her rid- 
ing-habit making a rich foil to the soft glow of her 
cheek, and the drooping plume of her hat falling over 
her snowy neck and mingling with the dark ringlets, 
and one little hand from which she had drawn the 
glove playing with Fatima’s tawny mane— and I 
took a sudden resolution. 

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “do you know that to-day 
you are no longer a proud lady of France, but a sim- 
ple American maiden?” 

She looked up at me, startled. I think she knew 
what was coming, but she answered bravely, though 
softly : 


THE ROSE OF ST. LOUIS 


459 


“Yes, monsieur/ ' and then dropped her eyes and 
fell to playing with Fatima's mane again. 

“Mademoiselle, do you remember on La Belle Ri- 
viere the wager you would not let me make ? ’ ' 

“Yes, monsieur," still more softly. 

“Mademoiselle, if I had made that wager then I 
would have won it to-day. You taught me better, and 
I would not win you by a wager now if I could. But 
oh, mademoiselle, you said by worth and deeds of 
prowess a maiden's hand should be won; and there is 
no one in the world— least of all I— worthy of you, 
mademoiselle, and no deeds of prowess could be grand 
enough to deserve you, and I have nothing to win you 
with but my great love ; will that avail me,— Pelagie ? ' 9 

She did not answer for a moment ; she was all rosy 
and drooping, and with a happy smile about her lips, 
as she had been in the cabinet of the First Consul. 

I put my great hand on her little one, still playing 
with Fatima's mane, and clasped it tight, though it 
fluttered like a bird at first and then lay quiet. 

“Pelagie, Pelagie, look up at me," I whispered. 
“I may call you Pelagie, may I not?" 

Swiftly and shyly she looked up into my eyes, and 
I looked down into heaven. 

“Yes, monsieur," she whispered. 

Suddenly she broke into a low laugh, and tried to 
draw her hand away from mine. 

“My name is not Pelagie," she said. 

“Not Pelagie!" I exclaimed, thinking she was 
playing me some merry trick, and wishing she had 
chosen some other time to play it. 
























